I whisper back, “I know.” I lift her bottom with one hand and tug the T-shirt fully under her with the other. “Better?”
“Maybe.”
I grip her hips to still her squirming. “Tell me about your childhood.”
She clears her throat. “My mother was diagnosed with Huntington’s Disease when I was five, so my childhood didn’t exist after that.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Do you have siblings?”
She shakes her head. “Just me and Mom. She kicked my dad out before I was born and never saw him again.” She fiddles with the hem on her shirt against my stomach.
“Did you have anyone helping you?” I know I’m not going to like the answer.
“No. My mom was very private and didn’t want anyone to know she was sick. She was only able to work for another year after her diagnosis, and then she went on long-term disability and I took care of her.”
“At six?” I can’t hold back the gasp.
She swallows hard. “Even at five. I took over nearly every household duty. That year she continued working she was so exhausted when she got home that she couldn’t even cook.”
I know my eyes are bugging out, and I’m trying not to squeeze her hips so hard that I’ll leave bruises. Holy shit. “Sweet girl…” I slide my hands to her back and pull her against me, hugging her to my chest.
After a few moments, she leans back again. “I didn’t really see it as a big deal. It was just the way my life was.”
“But what about friends and playdates and school and birthday parties?”
“I went to school, but that was it. I rushed home after school to take care of Mom.”
“You weren’t kidding. You really were an adult.”
A tear runs down her cheek and she swipes at it as she sucks in a breath and shakes away the sadness. I hate that for her.
“How long did your mother live?” I ask gently.
“Fifteen years. Luckily, I made it to eighteen before she was too far along for me to take care of her. She moved into an assisted living facility and lived two more years. I visited her every day. I had power of attorney, and I moved into a smaller apartment to save on rent.”
“Did you work too?”
She nods. “I started waitressing as soon as Mom moved into the home, but by then I had already published my first short stories.”
I smile. “That’s amazing. How did that happen?”
“One of my high school English teachers encouraged me to submit my work to a contest. I won. It gave me the courage to send my short stories to a few literary agents. I was lucky. People liked my work. I kept selling more stories.”
I give her a jiggle. “I’m sure it’s because you’re talented, Leah. Not lucky.”
She shrugs. “Both I guess.”
“So, you’ve been writing ever since?”
“Yep. I love writing. I started writing stories as soon as I could hold a pencil. I think it was my way of escaping. We didn’t have extra money for frivolous things like toys and games and electronics, but we could afford notebooks and pencils. I spent all of my free time either reading or writing my own stories.”
“That’s amazing.”
She draws in a deep breath. “So, that’s my life. I don’t use an agent anymore. I publish everything myself, but I make enough money to live, and I enjoy it, so that’s what I do.”
“I’m beyond impressed, but also sad for the little girl who didn’t have a childhood.”
“I survived.” She pastes on a brave smile. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Yes. When are you going to let me read one of your books?”
She tucks her head, dipping it to one side shyly. “You know my pen name now, don’t you?”
“Yep. Suzanne Richards. I like it. I can also easily google you and download any book I want. Or…” I reach out and tickle her side. “You can let me read off your laptop.”
She giggles, shoving at my finger. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”
“Nope. Especially not today. I’m the Daddy for the day, remember?” I tickle her again, loving the way she squirms in my arms. My shirt is loose on her tiny frame, but I can see the outline of her breasts, and her pert nipples graze the front of the shirt as she moves.
What I’d like to do is yank this shirt off her sweet body, toss her on the couch, and eat her pussy until she’s writhing and can’t remember her name. But that seems like more than she can handle today.
I lift my gaze when she stills. She looks serious again.
“Tell me what else you would do if you really were my Daddy.”
I clear my throat. “You really want to know or are you just changing the subject in the hopes I’ll forget I want to read one of your books?”
She shrugs. “Both. But I really want to know. Now’s your chance. Paint the picture for me. What would your life look like if you could have the perfect little?”
“Okay, for starters, I would fix that room up exactly how she would want it.”
“With what kinds of things?”
“I’d paint it pink since you…since nobody likes yellow. And then I’d buy furniture. Maybe white. Something fresh and bright. A twin bed. Dresser. Bookshelves. Toybox.”
She grins at me. “Would your little girl sleep in there?”
“Sometimes. Naptime for sure.”
She scrunches up her nose. “Naptime. That’s silly. I’d only be pretending to be little. I wouldn’t really need a nap.”
I slide my hands up and down her lower back as I talk, wondering if she’s noticed that she’s taken it from ‘your little girl’ to referring to herself. “Little girls need naps to keep them from getting cranky in the evenings.”
She rolls her eyes.
I squeeze her butt cheeks. “I’d spank your bottom every time you rolled your eyes at me like that too.”
She gasps, her eyes going wide. “You wouldn’t.”
I lift a brow. “Try me?”
She shakes her head. “No thank you.”
I chuckle. “But that’s half the fun. It’s part of the fetish. Not for every little, mind you. But you like getting spanked, so I’m certain you would find a way to ensure I spanked you most days.”
She squirms on my lap again. “I let myself get spanked two times a week at the club. Not every day.”
I open my mouth but then find I’m caught up on her word choice. “What do you mean you let yourself get spanked?”
She shrugs, her fingers coming to my chest and tracing random patterns on my pecs.
I grab her fingers in one hand and bring them to my lips, kissing them one at a time. “Answer me, sweetheart.”
Her voice is soft. “I just mean that’s how I get my release. Getting spanked.”
“What’s special about two nights a week?” I realize I’ve been spanking her two nights a week for a while. Wednesdays and either Friday or Saturday. We never go both weekend nights. I’ve always assumed going two nights in a row was more than she could handle, but now I’m wondering if there’s more to it.
She licks her lips. “It’s hard to explain.”
“My IQ is probably high enough,” I tease.
She shoots me a glare. “I so want to roll my eyes at you.”
“But you won’t because it’s a Thursday?”
She groans, her shoulders dropping as she slouches. “I think I’m kind of addicted to the release,” she mutters. “Or I could get addicted if I let myself.”
I’m trying to understand. “Addicted to the masochism? Is that what you mean?”
“Yes. I limit myself to twice a week to keep it in check.”
I don’t move a muscle. I’m trying to get in her head, but it’s hard. “Why do you need to keep it in check? If it feels good, no one is going to judge you for getting the release you enjoy more often. Certainly not me.”
She lifts one shoulder and lets it drop again, staring at my chest instead of my face. “Submitting is like cra
ck. It feels so good. It’s like it absolves me of my transgressions or something, like going to confession, only at the club instead. I give you, or whoever, permission to dominate me and chase away my naughty side so that I feel better.”
Her words are changing in tone. Does she know she’s speaking to me like a little? I’m not going to point it out. This is important. There’s a lot to unpack here.
“Do you think you have a naughty side?” I ask cautiously. That word is what triggered her the other night.
“No, because I don’t let myself be bad. But I have naughty thoughts, or I don’t get my work done, or I don’t keep my room clean or stuff like that, and then when you spank me, I forgive myself.” She humphs. “It’s fucked-up. I know.”
“Hey…” I grip her chin. “Remember what I said about cussing?”
Her face reddens. She didn’t do it on purpose. She totally forgot my rule. Her lip trembles. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
Shit. Holy shit.
Her eyes are watery and she turns her face away to wipe them.
“Sweet girl…” Fuck. Me. She’s so very little and so many things are happening here. I can’t keep up. “There’s nothing wrong with being naughty sometimes. Everyone is naughty sometimes. No one is perfect.”
She lowers her face again, fiddling with her shirt. “I’m not supposed to be naughty.”
I swallow. “Why not?”
“Because… I’m just not.” She twists hard and scrambles off my lap.
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I let her go, watching her find her feet and run from the room. It would have been wrong for me to hold her against her will right now and force her to explain. She needed to break the intensity of the connection.
I stand, shuffling after her though. It’s okay that she needed to get away, but I won’t let her hide from herself or from me indefinitely. I catch up with her as she’s climbing onto my bed and then burrowing herself under the covers. All the way under.
She’s a tight ball in the middle of the bed. A ball of little girl who has kept so much bottled up inside that she’s about to burst. I imagine she’s had a high wall around herself for twenty-five years, and the horror of yesterday has broken something inside her, like she said. She already figured that out first thing when she woke up. Something snapped. She’s unraveling.
I believe when the dust settles, she will find her little underneath. I hope she lets me be the one to catch her and guide her, but I need help. I have a pretty solid grip on my Daddy side, but I might hurt her further if I don’t find someone far more knowledgeable than me to help her work through this pain.
I sit on the edge of the bed and rub her back. “Why don’t you take a nap, sweet girl?”
She nods under the covers. I’m not sure how she can even breathe.
“Would it be okay if I called Master Quinten to ask him a few questions? I think you have a lot to unpack. Maybe he can help.”
“Okay.” Her voice is so faint, I almost can’t hear it.
I lean over her and hug her briefly even though I can’t see an inch of her. “Rest, sweet girl.”
As I leave the room, I pull the door almost closed. I want to be able to hear her if she calls out to me or gets scared or confused or sad.
I head to my office next. I need to call Roman and see if he can put me in touch with Master Quinten.
Chapter 12
Leah
When I wake up for the second time today, I realize where I am quicker. I’m also less panicky. I needed the rest. I take a moment to stretch out and take deep breaths, remembering everything that happened this morning. Or maybe that was more like noon.
I need a shower. I need clothes. I’ve been in this T-shirt since we got to the house early this morning. I don’t have anything to wear though. I came here in nothing but the clothes I was wearing when I was abducted. I’d like to burn those on principle alone.
I stare at the ceiling, reminding myself I’ve chosen to be little today. It wasn’t a tough decision. I’m emotionally drained and I woke up earlier feeling extremely needy and clingy. As if some hidden little in me wanted to raise her head.
It’s not something I could do forever, so I hope I’m not giving Craig the impression I’ve switched into a new persona for good. I just wanted to see what it was like. Today. A day when my life feels like it’s falling apart and I don’t want to be in charge anymore.
“Hey, sweet girl.”
Craig’s gentle voice makes me turn my head toward the doorway. He’s approaching me, and when he reaches the bed, he climbs up on his hands and knees and hovers over me. “How do you feel?”
“Better. I needed the sleep.”
“I know you did. You’re probably going to be out of sorts for a while.” He strokes my forehead, brushing hair out of my face.
“I need a shower.”
“How about if I give you a bath, and then you can put clean clothes on. Eve went to your apartment and packed some things for you. She and Colton brought them by a while ago.”
I grin. “Bless her.”
“I thought you’d like that.” He reaches for my hand and hauls me to sitting. “Are you still willing to let me Daddy you for the day?”
“Yep.” I’m nervous. That’s not going to change. But that’s because of the unknown.
“Good. Let’s get you in the tub.” He slides off the bed and then reaches for me, tossing me over his shoulder before carrying me to the master bath caveman-style.
I giggle. “Craig…”
He sets me on my feet next to the tub, reaches over to turn on the water, and puts the stopper in. After sitting on the toilet seat, he pulls me between his legs. His hands come to the sides of my face and thread into my messy hair. “I probably screwed up your hair by letting you sleep with it wet.”
“It’ll be okay,” I assure him. “Maybe Eve grabbed me some clips or scrunchies.”
“I’ve got you covered on that. Will you let me brush it out and braid it?” He runs his hands down its length. “I’ve wanted to braid this hair from the moment I first met you.”
I lean into him, setting my cheek on his shoulder. “Okay.” No one has ever done my hair. Not since I was five. I don’t even care what he does to it. I bet it will feel amazing to have someone comb it out while I sit and enjoy myself.
Craig twists around and opens a drawer. I’m surprised to see it’s full of hair bobbles. He grabs a hot pink scrunchy, spins me around, and then gathers the messy curls into a loose bun on top of my head.
When he’s satisfied that it won’t get wet, he lifts my T-shirt over my head.
I shiver and instinctively cover myself, crossing my arms over my boobs. My nipples stiffen.
Craig chuckles as he tests the water with his fingers. “I’ve seen you naked, sweetheart. Touched every inch of you.”
“I know,” I murmur, still unnerved.
He smiles at me, making me blush. He sets his hands on my hips and then eases them up until he can stroke the undersides of my breasts with his thumbs. “I don’t know why, but for some reason when littles get in their little girl headspace, they tend to get bashful.”
I nod. That’s exactly it. I suddenly feel shy.
He lifts me up and sets me in the tub. “On your bottom, sweet girl, before you slip and fall.” He keeps a protective hand on me until I sit, my legs stretched out in front of me.
Craig reaches for my hands and gives a little tug. “Lower your arms, sweetheart. I can’t wash you if you cover yourself.”
I feel incredibly unnerved to be sitting here naked in his tub with him fully clothed next to me, intent on bathing me. Hundreds of people have seen me naked over the years in the club. They’ve watched me get spanked and even fingered to orgasm. They’ve seen my swollen breasts, heavy with arousal, and my peaked nipples. They’ve seen my pussy wet and needy. Why would I be embarrassed to be naked in front of the man I’m currently exclusive with in his home?
But I am, and I can’t look at him
as I drop my hands to my thighs.
I expect Craig to reach for the washcloth and get this over with, but instead, he strokes my breast, his fingers grazing over my nipple, making me flinch and gasp.
“Look at me, sweet girl.”
I purse my lips as I lift my heated face.
“I think you’re embarrassed because you’re aroused, and that’s confusing when you’re in your little headspace.”
He’s right. I blink at him. That’s exactly it. Finally, I nod, but my face heats further.
He strokes my nipple again. It feels so good. “It’s perfectly natural for you to be aroused, Leah. There’s no reason to be self-conscious.”
“When I’m in my little space?” I ask, my voice incredulous and high-pitched.
“Yep. For many people, age play is arousing. There’s nothing wrong with that. Surely you know Eve and Lucy and most of your friends get aroused when they’re little.”
I swallow and run my fingers through the water, watching the ripples to avoid concentrating on how my nipples are stiff peaks and how he keeps touching them. “I guess. I just never thought much about it. Do they have sex in their little space?”
“A lot of people do. Some people switch out part way or all the way in bed, but half the fun is how aroused you get from submitting to a Daddy all day.”
I nod. “Eve always talks about how arousing it is and how hard her nipples are and how wet her panties get. She overshares.” I chuckle. “It just feels strange now that I’m in it for some reason. Like it’s wrong.”
He lifts my chin. “Nothing you feel is ever wrong, Leah. We’re all wired differently. You’ve been a member of Surrender for years. You know firsthand that everyone has their own kinks.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I shudder, still unnerved by this particular reaction to this particular kink.
“When you submit to me in your adult persona bent over a spanking bench, you get aroused, right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Why?”
I lick my lips. “Because I drop into a more open place in my head when you lean me over the bench, especially if you restrain me. I get wet and needy when you dominate me. It’s like it’s out of my control.”
Convincing Leah (Surrender Book 9) Page 11
