by Maren Smith
“Yes,” I whisper.
He smiles quickly and then gets serious, demanding, “Say it again, Nono.”
“Yes. Please.”
And suddenly I’m shivering all over—it’s like I’m in shock. Maybe I am. And he pulls me into his lap, holding me there, and it feels just right. His thighs are so strong and muscular under me, and I wish I were wearing a short little skirt he could just push up and reach under. How can I be so turned on and so comforted at the same time?
But this is part of being a little, or a middle, or apparently a kitten. It’s that contrast of doing something, being something that’s so much the opposite of who we are in our everyday lives, something that’s so utterly forbidden, and yet we do it because it feels safe—safe to be free in expressing this intrinsic part of who we are inside.
I really get to do this, and I am going to lose my mind.
Then I forget everything as he pulls me closer, one hand firm on the back of my neck as he kisses me until I am nothing but a little puddle of raging desire, pleasure surging through my veins like liquid fire.
He pulls back once more, his brows drawn, his mouth loose, a wild gleam in those incredible eyes, and just looking at him makes me limp all over. My poor, neglected pussy is pulsing with such exquisite need, I don’t know how I can stand it.
“Nono, I can’t wait—I can’t wait to do this. And I know we have to talk more about it, and I understand this isn’t the time to do it—fuck, this is really not the time to do it—just know I am dead serious about this. And unless you change your mind, we are going to explore this together. Making you my girl, my kitten is…you have no idea what this is for me. And thank you to the goddamn heavens for entrusting me with this, with your well-being. And I need to shut the fuck up and kiss you senseless now. Is that alright with you?”
Is it alright? It’s everything I need at this moment.
“Yes! Yes, please, Sir,” I dare.
He holds my face with one big hand, and I love it so much, this sense of being commanded.
“Can you call me Daddy, Nono?”
“I…I can’t. Not yet. I need to know it’s safe. I’m sorry, but my history with that title, with what it should have meant and ultimately didn’t…”
“No, never be sorry, baby girl. As much as I’m craving to hear you say it, we never do anything you don’t want to do.”
“It’s just that I understand how much that title means to me, how vulnerable and raw it’ll make me. How incredibly powerful it is to me. It’s not for play—not for me. I need some time to get there.”
“Then I’ll work to make you feel you can trust me that much, to earn that from you. I promise.”
When he kisses me again, I’m even weaker with desire than I was before. My heart is hammering, my sex is soaking wet, and my nipples are so hard they hurt. God, I need him to touch me—really touch me. His luscious kisses are only the warm-up, and I have a feeling it can only get better from here—so much better. My mind fills with images of him standing over me, like he did in my dream, his big hands on me, holding me down. The sensation of yielding to him, of wanting to, of being utterly sated in this simple act.
I moan into his mouth, I’m so hot, so needy, my body craving his in a way I’ve never craved any man before.
And God damn it, why didn’t we negotiate sex yet?
Chapter Four
“Rox? Hey, it’s me.”
“Hi, hi, Noelle.” Roxy’s husky voice is a bit muffled, and I’m fairly certain she’s carrying her phone in her bra again. “What’s up, honey?”
“I wanted to tell you about yesterday. About last night.”
“Ooh, did you do the evil deed with the hot Dom?”
“You are such a perv.”
“Yes, but you love that about me.”
“Yeah, I sorta do,” I agree. “But I have some serious stuff to tell you about.”
Her tone immediately shifts. “Of course. I’m listening.”
“So…we had a great time together. And then we went through negotiations. And let me tell you, it was intense. He’s intense. But, you know, in the best way possible.”
“Like a true Dom.”
“Yes, exactly. But we didn’t just negotiate play—we negotiated age play. And you know how triggery that’s been for me since Patrick.”
“Fucking Patrick,” she grumbles.
“Well, Kane has some triggers around it, too. I’m not at liberty to tell you, though.”
“Of course not, hon,” she agrees. “Go on.”
“So, we’re meeting tonight, finishing up negotiations, and I think we’re going to play. To be honest, I don’t know how I’ll handle it, but I feel so good with him. I feel like if anyone will do good by me, help me get over what I went through before, it’s him. But I still have no idea if I’ll drop, or what I’ll need, and I don’t want to show up at work all raw and in some messed up head space, which is a possibility. I logged into the salon schedule and I only have three clients on Tuesday. Is it possible for you to take them if I’m not in good enough shape to come in?”
“Honey, I’d cancel all your clients the day after you play with him for the first time, if I had to. But yes, let me take a look, and I can shuffle things around if I need to. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
“Thanks, Rox.”
“So, do you want to tell me anything else?”
“Yeah. I forgot to negotiate sex, like an idiot.”
“I’m assuming by the way you phrased it that you want to?”
“Hell, yes!”
Roxy laughs. “Okay then. It sounds like you can go over that tonight before you play. Where is this all happening?”
“At his house.”
“You okay doing this in an unfamiliar environment?”
“I actually think it may be better, like a clean slate.
“Okay. Thanks for filling me in, doll. And you call me if you need anything, okay? I don’t care if it’s three in the morning.”
“I will, I promise. Thanks.”
“Any time, my friend. You know I’m hoping for a full report after. Not that you have to share, of course.”
“I probably will need to sort of download afterward.”
“It could definitely help you process. Now go get ready—get yourself bathed and perfumed and do your breathing, and try to lose yourself a little in the ritual of preparation.”
“You know I always do, although maybe not too much tonight, since we have more negotiating to do.”
“You’re already decided, hon, so I think it’s okay.”
We chat for another minute or two, then hang up, and I draw myself a bath in my black-and-white tiled bathroom, adding a little peach-scented bath oil. It’s a scent I use only when I’m preparing for age play. As I strip off my clothes, the fragrant steam rises all the way up to the high ceiling, one of my favorite things about Victorians.
Naked, I look at my reflection in the mirror over the sink. Even at twenty-nine, I still have the slim figure and small breasts of a twelve- or thirteen-year-old. I smooth my palms over my breasts, the pink nipples going tight. I had all my hair lasered off years ago, so my clit peeks out of the pale pink folds between my thighs, looking innocent and fresh. Maybe my body is why I feel the most comfortable inhabiting age play as a middle? I don’t really know. But suddenly, I remember going to the children’s department and buying cute little pink panties and t-shirts with unicorns there—I can fit into the pre-teen sizes—and I am filled with wanting. I want to dress up for him. Did I save any of my sweet little outfits? I’ll have to dig. I’m pretty sure I threw everything out after the fiasco with my previous Dom, but there may still be something left, one of my favorites. I should have been more prepared, but I know it’ll be fine no matter what. Kane has made that very clear for me.
I get into the water and sink down until I’m covered up to my shoulders, then wash myself very carefully for him—for my new Dom—with my white-and-purple unicorn wash cloth. It�
�s so tempting to reach between my thighs, to tease my aching clit as I imagine what the evening might hold. But I know he wouldn’t want me to, and I don’t want to misbehave even before we get started.
I stand up and let the tub drain so I can wash and condition my long, brown hair with a rinse that brings out my gold highlights. Then I get out and dry myself, rub a lightly scented peach lotion into my skin, and do my makeup carefully—a little mascara, some pink blush on the apples of my cheeks. I’ll add a little sugary pink lip gloss later. I dry my hair, using a round brush to add some body to my wispy bangs, then smile at my reflection. I’m so excited about tonight, about him, that my fears are mostly banked. I feel so certain he’ll be able to reassure me, to bring me back to this part of myself that’s been lost for so long.
Going to my closet, I dig until I find a sweet little dress in white eyelet with a fitted bodice and a full skirt that grazes the tops of my thighs. Luckily, it’s still in the plastic from the dry cleaners, so it smells nice and fresh. In my dresser I find a pair of cute panties, white with pink flowers and a little lace. I think he’ll like it.
My stomach starts to churn with butterflies as his arrival time draws near. The overnight bag he had me bring sits by the door, carefully packed with fuzzy pajamas, my favorite stuffie, the usual toiletries, and a change of street clothes. I’m slicking some of my lip gloss onto my lips when he knocks, and my butterflies are replaced with a sharp jolt of nerves.
I pull in a deep breath.
“You’ve got this,” I tell my reflection, smiling as I take in my outfit, the sleek hair, the glossed mouth.
When I open the door, the look on his face tells me he likes what he sees too.
“Wow, you look amazing, baby girl,” he says with a big smile.
I’m melting already as I smile back, my lashes batting my cheeks as if of their own accord.
He moves in and takes me in his strong arms, wrapping me up in a hug. Have I ever felt this instantly safe with anyone?
“Come on, Nono. We’re going to sit and finish negotiations. Can you do that?”
“Yes. I’m a little subspaced just from getting ready, but I already know what I want to say, what I want to agree to.”
“Good girl.” He leads me to the sofa. “I’m not going to kiss you until we’re done, okay? It doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“Very good. We have a few items we either didn’t go over yet or that I want to confirm. The first thing is sex.”
I have to squirm in my seat, my pussy going wet at the words coming out of his sexy-as-hell mouth.
“Do you know how you feel about it? And you know sex doesn’t have to mean intercourse. I’m talking about any sort of sexual contact.”
“As long as I can stay the night with you, and you won’t take me home until you know I’m okay, then yes, I want it. All of it. I want it as an option, at least, if that’s okay with you. Because I know I’ll want it, and maybe need it. The closeness of sex is assuring to me, and it feeds more endorphins and oxytocin if I’m starting to crash. Not that it’s the best reason….”
He nods. “It’s an excellent reason, little Nono. I get that. And I will never send you home until I am absolutely certain you’re doing well. I won’t let you leave unless you’re good, either. I need you to understand that and agree to it—that you don’t leave without me giving the approval after I’ve evaluated your condition.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“Another thing—I won’t have sex with you if I feel you’re too deep in subspace, or otherwise unprepared for it. I also may choose to deny you sex as punishment or if you have don’t have enough time with me.”
“Oh! I…oh…”
He chuckles. “That is the perfect response, baby girl.”
“Was it?”
“It tells me that you’re serious about what you want.”
My cheeks go warm, and he lifts my chin with his fingertips—something that he does often and I love already—forcing my gaze to his.
“I love to see you blush. I plan to make you blush as often as possible. That’s something you can count on.”
Of course that only makes me blush more. But I’m glad to know he likes it.
“Now for some of the simpler rules. You are free to go anywhere in my house at any time, except for my office. If I’m on a work call, you can stand at the door and let me know if you need something. Do not hesitate to do it. You are always my first priority when you’re with me, and any business can wait until your needs are met. Yes?”
“Yes. Sir.”
“I like that. It’ll do very well for now. You are also to tell me if you’re ever thirsty, hungry, or have any other need, in and out of play time. If a punishment is a trigger for you, tell me immediately. Do not try to endure it. You have trauma to overcome, and attempting to tough something out isn’t the way to handle it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“That’s all I have. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”
“No, Sir. Nothing.”
“Good. Now come give your Sir a kiss, little one.”
Oh, God, does he know what that phrase does to me? I go warm all over, desire pulsing through my body, my pussy, in a way that I know will only get more intense as the evening progresses. He opens his arms, and I go right into them. He pulls me in close, and I take a breath, using his scent to steady myself as he crushes his mouth to mine. And oh, God, his kiss is fire and sweetness, and firm enough to remind me he’s utterly in charge.
When he releases me I feel myself going down, sinking further into not only subspace, but little space.
He stands, taking me with him, and twirls me around. “You look absolutely delicious, pretty girl. I am going to eat you up. Now let’s get you in the car before I strip you naked right here.”
I laugh—I can’t help it. And I know it comes out as a child-like giggle, but he’s made me safe enough to be here, in this space, and it feels wonderful.
The ride to his house goes by quickly—he doesn’t live far from me, on Baker Street and Page, by Buena Vista Park. The house is gorgeous, a two-story Queen Anne-style Victorian painted a pale, mossy green, with cream-colored trim, a rust-red door and rust highlights on the decorative trim. He presses a remote on his dashboard and a garage door opens. After he parks, he comes around to let me out.
“I’m going to give you a quick tour.”
We enter directly into the kitchen, which looks like something out of Architectural Digest. It’s all marble counters and tiled marble backsplash, with white upper cabinets and lower cabinets in a pale gray. There’s a big chef’s range, and the appliances are all in sleek brushed nickel. It’s as elegant as he is.
“The refrigerator is stocked with juice and snacks. You feel free to help yourself any time, baby girl. Alright?”
I nod, a little overcome.
He leads me then through a dining room with a big antique table in dark wood, and a large potted orchid in the middle. We pass through the living room next, and it’s all done in gray and white, with a few touches of navy here and there. The big sectional sofa looks inviting, and with the gray velvet drapes drawn over the tall windows, the room is cozy, despite its size. I vaguely notice the intricate crown molding, the wainscoting, the gorgeous fireplace mantel.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell him.
“Thank you, baby. It’s taken me a while to get this far, and I’m not done decorating yet. But I have a very special room I want to show you.”
We go down a hallway, passing a few rooms to either side, before we reach the door at the very end.
“This is for you. It’s your space. Your refuge. Your play room. I made it especially for you, so let me know if there’s something you want in here, okay?”
He opens the door and we step in, and I can’t help but sigh as I look around. The queen-sized bed is covered with a pink-and-yellow quilt and numerous throw pillows, and there’
s a fluffy pink fake fur rug on the hardwood floor. The window is dressed with lace curtains, and there’s an easel with crayons and markers in a basket on the floor beside it. A toy chest in the corner is beautifully painted with fairies in a forest, and there are more fairies, as well as mermaids, in framed prints on the walls—images I remember from a book I had when I was young.
“Oh my God…it’s so pretty. It’s perfect. You did this for me?”
“I did. I want you to be as comfortable as possible. Is it missing anything?”
“I can’t imagine anything missing from this room. It’s so perfect. I can’t believe you did this for me.”
I turn to him and throw my arms around his neck, then immediately wonder if I’ve presumed too much and step back.
“Is that… I’m sorry. Should I have asked first?”
He pulls me back into his embrace.
“Do you know how happy that makes me? That you feel the urge to hug me? How much it makes me feel as if you’re mine, that you’ve given yourself to me? Never hold back, my sweet girl. I’m so glad you like your room. I’m going to leave your bag in here, okay?”
“Yes, thank you. Thank you so much!”
He drops the bag on the floor, then takes my hand and leads me back down the hallway, into the next room. It’s his bedroom, and it’s as gorgeous as the rest of the house. There’s a high antique four-poster bed with a white coverlet. More of the gray velvet drapes cover the pair of windows, and there’s a highboy dresser that matches the bed, and a pair of nightstands.
There’s also a big high-backed chair with an ottoman that’s perfect for giving spankings. Or receiving them. I swallow hard.
He lifts me by the waist, making me really feel little, feel small, then sets me on the side of the big bed and bends to carefully remove my shoes, leaving my fee bare. He strokes my painted toes with a tender fingertip.
