Little Samantha's Choice

by Meredith O'Reilly

  She turned her head slightly to look around the room, and then she said, “I think it’s okay. I um… like the bookcase. It has lots of neat books.”

  I was happy that she was talking, but she still wasn’t really looking at me.

  “Is that all? Why don’t you turn so you can get a proper look at the room?”

  She did as I suggested, which pleased me. I held my breath as she looked around the room, not really focusing on anything in particular.

  “Oh! I love this doll! Her name is Molly and I’m going to be her mommy. I’ll take reals good care of her and…”

  I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face again. All I ever wanted was for Samantha to be happy, and it sounded like she was—until she got embarrassed about talking about a doll and wanting to be the doll’s mommy.

  “I’m glad that you like Molly. I remembered that you told me you always wanted an American Girl doll when you were younger and that Molly was your favorite. So, I bought her just for you,” I said calmly and then wiggled her nose. Samantha was a ticklish person and burst into peals of laughter.

  When she stopped laughing, she said, “I can’t believe that you remembered that. I must have told you that like, the first month that we were dating.”

  “Remember what I said, sweetie. I always have—and always will—want to protect you, make you feel cherished, and make you feel like the happiest wife and little girl in the world.”

  All of a sudden, Samantha’s stomach grumbled loudly.

  “Well, I guess that your tummy is trying to tell me something. Come on, let’s go have breakfast,” I said and scooped her up.

  I was just about to walk out of the nursery when she cried, “Wait! I want to bring Molly too… if that’s okay with you.”

  I paused for a second, stunned that she wanted to bring Molly. Of course I was happy that she wanted to, but I was expecting her to pretend like this entire thing never happened. Instead, I decided to go with the flow and do whatever my wife wanted to do.

  I smiled down at her and said, “If you want to be a good mommy, then you are going to have to feed your baby too.” I leaned forward so Samantha could grab Molly, then I walked out of the nursery, carrying my little girl and her little girl in my arms.

  Chapter Six

  Jackson put me down on a kitchen chair, then went to the cabinet and pulled out a box of pancake mix. “How do pancakes sound, munchkin?” he asked, holding up the pancake mix.

  “That sounds great. Listen, can we please talk about this whole situation now, and just put everything on the table?” I was biting my lower lip, worrying about what he would say.

  “Sure, sweetie. How about you talk, while I cook.”

  I nodded, glancing down at my hands as I began. “Okay, so I read the two books that you gave me. I found that what I read made sense and after much consideration, I decided that I would try to role play with you.”

  I looked up at my husband and saw that he had a smile on his face that made him look like he was the happiest man in the world. It reassured me that I was indeed making the correct choice in putting my fear aside to try and please him.

  “Anyway, I have some questions, if that’s okay.”

  He kept mixing the pancake mix as he said, “You can ask as many questions as you want, Samantha. I want you to feel completely comfortable and safe with this type of role play and know that you can always come to me and ask me questions. I promise to be one hundred percent honest with you, always.”

  That calmed me down a lot. I was happy to know that my husband wouldn’t get angry or make fun of me if I asked him a question in the future. “My first question ties in with something else. So, after reading the book about the fundamentals of age play, I know that the little is supposed to pick an age that they feel best fits them. Again, after a lot of consideration, I have decided to choose the age of a four-year-old girl. I chose to be a four-year-old because they have all the basic stuff down in life and can handle some independence, while they aren’t too independent, like a teenager is.”

  I didn’t mention the fact that being able to color and play with dolls as activities crossed my mind when I was trying to pick an age.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “I chose to be four years old. So my question is, if I’m that age, why would you keep the things that a baby would use in the nursery? If we’re being completely honest with one another, I don’t feel comfortable yet—and I don’t know if I ever will—with using a diaper.” I looked back down at my sweaty hands, feeling nervous. I really did want to please my husband, but there were certain things—like wearing a diaper—that I wasn’t sure I would ever be ready for.

  I heard Jackson move around the kitchen toward me, but I didn’t look up until his fingers gently lifted my chin. He squatted down so we were at eye level.

  “Please, Samantha, don’t ever be embarrassed or think that you shouldn’t tell me something. To be in a relationship like this, the two people involved have to be brutally honest with one another, or things can go sour for the relationship fast. Okay?”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “Now, I can answer your question. The reason why I would keep that stuff is because sometimes I might like you to regress to a younger age than four years old. I get the most powerful feeling when you rely on me. If you had to rely on me for every need, including your bathroom need, it would make me the happiest daddy in the world. Additionally, if you are ever sick or I feel that you need some extra tender loving care, I will regress you to a younger age than four because it would be easier for me to take care of you.”

  I mulled that over in my mind. Everything that he said made sense; however, I still wasn’t that crazy about the idea of being treated younger than four years old.

  I must have had my emotions written all over my face again because he said, “Since you told me that you don’t feel comfortable with regressing to a younger age than four, I won’t do that for a while. When I think it has to be done, though, I will talk with you about it. If you don’t want to regress further at that point, then I won’t force you to. It will be your decision and I will respect whatever you decide.”

  The ball of nerves that had formed in my stomach disappeared. As long as I knew that I could tell him no and he would respect my decision, then I could do this. “Alright, that sounds like a plan to me. I promise that I will be honest when we are playing, and I will try my best to push past my fears.” Then I decided to voice part of biggest fear. “Jackson, what happens if we role play together and I decide that I really don’t like it?”

  He caressed my face as a wistful smile crossed over his. “Then, baby girl, we won’t role play anymore. Like I told you before, I won’t force you to play along if you don’t like it. All I can ask of you is to just give it at least one try before you make a decision about it.”

  I decided to voice the rest of my fear. “Okay. But, will you… still want to be married to me if I don’t like it?”

  Jackson stood up then and grabbed my hands to pull me up to. He gave me a big hug and held me close to him. After several moments, he pulled back and looked me in the eye. “Samantha Briggs, I will love you no matter what. If you like role playing, fine. If you don’t like role playing, fine. If you want us to move out of this house so you don’t have to remember this experience, fine. Do you get what I’m trying to say, honey? You’re my wife, and I’m thankful for you every day. I know that you’re scared, but you’re taking a huge leap of faith and trying what I like for me. That’s all that I can ask of you. Nothing more. After you experience your first time as a little girl, we will sit down and have a talk. You can tell me then whether you would be willing to role play with me again, or not. Sound good?”

  I nodded, glad that he was taking this so seriously and not laughing at me.

  “Good. Now, no more talk about me leaving you. The only way this marriage is going to be broken up is if you leave me.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” I said, wrapping my
arms around my husband.

  He kissed my head. “I could stand here all day like this, honey, but I really should get back to making breakfast. I wouldn’t want my little girl to starve.”

  Reluctantly, I broke away from the embrace and sat down again as he went over to finish breakfast.

  After about fifteen minutes, he came over to the kitchen table, carrying two plates filled with pancakes. One plate was one of our regular white plates, but the other one had Disney Princesses on it! He placed the plates on the table and cut the pancakes on the Disney Princess plate into small bites. He swirled some syrup onto both plates and then placed the Disney Princess plate in front of me. When I went to pick up the fork next to the plate, I noticed that it was also a Disney Princess themed fork.

  After a few bites, I moaned out my appreciation. “Mmmm… these pancakes are really good… Daddy.”

  The look in my husband’s eyes told me just how much he liked to be called daddy. I will have to do that more often, I made a mental note to myself.

  “Thank you, princess. Are you thirsty?”

  I nodded in between bites.

  Jackson got up, went over to a cabinet, and filled an odd-looking cup with milk. When he put it down in front of me, I realized that it was a Disney Princess sippy cup. I slowly reached for it and brought it to my lips. It didn’t release as much milk as a regular cup would, but it worked well enough for me.

  We ate the rest of our breakfast in silence, until I had only two small pieces of pancake left on my plate. When I got a better look at them, I realized that they were actually miniature pancakes.

  I looked up at Jackson. “Why did you make me these two small pancakes, honey?”

  He smiled. “They’re for Molly. She has to eat too.”

  “Oh yeah!” I said, giggling as I fed Molly her breakfast. When he wasn’t looking, I ate the two small pancakes. “Look, Molly is all done with her breakfast!” I said, laughing as he laughed right along with me.

  When we both finished eating and cleaned up after our meal, he asked, “So, you ready to start the day?”

  “Yes,” I answered, beginning to feel slightly nervous about what the day would entail.

  “Alright. Let’s go get you dressed.” He took my hand and surprised me by bringing me back to the nursery. I should have known we were going to go back there, but I had thought he meant that he would help me change into my regular clothes, not into clothes from the nursery.

  “Here, sit on the bed while I pick an outfit for you to wear from the closet.”

  I sat on the day bed as my husband opened up the closet door and pulled out a shirt, then walked over to the dresser and pulled out underwear and some pants. He set them all on the bed.

  “Okay sweetie, let’s get you undressed.”

  Very quickly, he had undressed me and I was standing before my husband, naked.

  First, he put a cute little bra with small stars on me. Then he told me to put my hands on his shoulders while I stepped into my underpants. As he pulled the underpants up my legs and settled them on me, I noticed that they felt bigger and bulkier than regular underpants would. I glanced down at the underwear, but they looked like normal underpants to me—although they had little Disney Princesses all over them.

  When I gave my husband a questioning look, he said, “Those are training pants. They are a little bulkier than normal underpants, but in case you have an accident, you won’t make a mess.”

  I felt a little shocked and then furious that he would think I might have an accident when I was twenty-five years old. “Are you kidding?” I shouted, letting my temper get the best of me. “I’m twenty-five years old! You can trust that I won’t have an accident!”

  “Samantha,” he growled, “remember, you are supposed to be four years old right now. Four-year-old girls listen to their daddies and do not complain about having to sometimes wear training pants. If they don’t behave, then they will get a spanking.”

  “Yes, but I’m twenty-five years old! You know that I know how to control my bladder! I won’t wear ‘em!” I shouted, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Before I knew what happened, I was sprawled out on his lap as he sat on the day bed. I felt one of his elbows settle on my back, and then I felt the other hand pull my training pants down so my naked bottom was exposed, and then he started to spank me.

  Smack! “You will not—talk to your—Daddy that way!” he growled, spanking my bottom after every few words he spoke.

  I couldn’t move a muscle. I was so in shock at being put over his lap and receiving a spanking for talking back. I hadn’t been spanked since I was a little girl.

  Smack! “You will—trust that I know—what is best—for you!” he continued lecturing me as his hand continued its torture on my bottom.

  Now that the novelty of getting spanked had worn off, my bottom was really starting to hurt. It stung worse every time his hand met my bottom. I tried to squirm out of the way to avoid his hand, but I could hardly move. The heat of the slaps were starting to radiate their way all around my backside. I tried to hold my tears in, but within seconds I was letting them fall, pleading with him to stop and promising that I would behave.

  Smack! “You will—do as you are told—from now on!”

  He must had been satisfied that he had gotten the point across because then he stopped spanking my bottom and began gently rubbing his hand around the area he had been spanking. I didn’t like that. It made the burning feeling spread across my entire bottom and somehow made me feel ashamed for ever having misbehaved and getting into this position.

  At that point, I was sobbing my heart out. I was embarrassed because I was twenty-five years old and was getting a spanking and about to be put in training pants. But mostly, I was disappointed that I had upset my daddy so much that he’d had to spank me. “I’m… s-s-so sorry!” I cried out in between sobs.

  Finally, he stopped rubbing my bottom, which was probably the color of a fire engine, and said, “It’s okay, muffin, you’re forgiven.”

  He twisted and pulled me up, so now I was sitting in his lap. I let out a cry when my bottom made contact with his jean covered pant leg.

  “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. I know that you’ll be a well behaved girl from now on.” He said as he hugged me close, rocking me back and forth while rubbing my back.

  I leaned my head into the crook of his shoulder and kept sobbing, apologizing for misbehaving within only a matter of minutes of us just beginning to role play.

  After a few minutes, I started to feel better and my sobs turned into little whimpers. I couldn’t believe how much that spanking had hurt! And what frightened me even more was how all I wanted to do was be snuggled by the man who had given me the spanking. The urge to continue to beg for my daddy’s forgiveness, even though he said I was already forgiven, was overwhelming. It still feels weird to think of him as my daddy, I thought.

  “I’m so proud of you, baby. You took that spanking very well,” he whispered to me.

  At his words, I snuggled further into his shoulder, new tears appearing in my eyes. I didn’t want to have to look my husband in the eye after what he had done to me.

  “Hey. Don’t be like that,” he softly said, lifting my chin. “No more tears, little girl. Sometimes little girls make mistakes and their daddies have to give them spankings so the little girls don’t make the same mistakes again. There is nothing to be embarrassed about. Not now, not ever. I promise that I will never laugh at you, baby girl.”

  I nodded as I wiped my nose with the back of my hand.

  “Baby, I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” he said, as he got up and gently laid me down on the day bed, then left the room.

  I curled up into a ball on the bed, waiting for him to come back. Less than two minutes later, he came back in the room carrying a box of tissues and a bottle of something that I didn’t recognize. He sat back down on the bed, picked me up, and plopped me back onto his lap.

  After a second, there was a t
issue in front of my face and he said, “Blow, baby.”

  I did as I was told. When I finished blowing my nose into the tissue, he put it on the side of the bed, then repositioned me so I was once again draped over his lap. I began to panic, thinking that another spanking was coming.

  “No, Daddy, please! I’ll behave! Don’t spank me again!” I cried out, trying to get off of his lap, but I had just as much luck this time at getting off his lap as I had last time.

  “Relax, baby. I’m just going to apply some of this baby oil to your bottom to make it feel better,” he said, in a soothing voice.

  I heard the cap of the bottle open and then I felt some oil being poured onto my bottom. I heard the bottle snap closed, and then I felt his strong fingers massaging the oil into my heated flesh.

  I was surprised to discover that the oil really did work to soothe my bottom. Within minutes, I let out a happy sigh and all of the tension in my body left. As I lay limp as a noodle on my husband’s lap, I couldn’t help but smile at how this situation must look. My husband dressed in a regular T-shirt and jeans, and me dressed in only a girly bra, just lying on his lap with my butt in the air, getting a massage. I couldn’t help the snort of laughter I let out.

  “What’s so funny, sweetie?”

  “Nothing. I’m just picturing how we must look. You in your T-shirt and pants while I’m just in a bra while you massage my butt. You have to admit, Jackson, it does sound like it would look funny,” I said with another chuckle.

  “You’re right, baby girl, that does sound like it would look funny. But, sweetie, you have to remember to call me ‘Daddy’ when we are role playing. It will help you get into your little headspace faster.”

  “Yes… Daddy. I’m sorry that I forgot.”

  “It’s okay, munchkin. I think that your bottom should feel better now. Are you ready to finish getting dressed?”

  I nodded, bracing myself for what I knew was coming.