Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
“Layla has a nursery,” I mumble, looking around. “She even has a crib and a changing table.”
“I’ve ordered those things for you, too, Little one.”
“But what if I don’t like to play that young?”
He shrugs. “You’ll always have options.”
“You’re not going to force me, are you?” I stiffen, worrying that deep inside, Tate really wants a Little who can be really regressed. I’m not sure I can be that Little.
He shakes his head. “No, Baby girl. Never. I told you I don’t care what age range you enjoy most. The only thing that matters is figuring it out and then doing whatever you need to make it perfect for you. Some Littles like to switch around at different times. You might like to hover at an older age on work nights and play younger on your days off when you don’t have to worry about facing people and pulling out of your regression abruptly.”
I lean my chest against his, wrap my arms around his neck, and hold on tight while he sways in the middle of the room. Everything about Tate feels so right. I hope it’s real.
Eventually, he turns us, and we exit the empty room before heading back downstairs. “I do have quite a few things for Little girls in my house, even though I have never furnished that room.”
I pick up my head and look at him. “Like what?”
“I have a booster seat in the kitchen like the one Layla has. I have cups and bottles and plates and silverware. I have pacifiers and formula, diapers and wipes.”
I stiffen. “Did you used to have another Little girl?” For some reason this idea makes me feel icky. I don’t know why. It shouldn’t. Of course my Daddy would have had Little girls before me. I’m being ridiculous.
“I’ve never had a Little girl of my own, Sophia. No Little girl has spent the night in my home before tonight. But I have lots of friends who are Daddies. Sometimes they come over for the evening, so I keep several things on hand they might need when visiting.”
“Oh.” I blow out a breath. That’s a relief.
Tate carries me across the room, and lowers me onto a booster seat that’s identical to the one Layla sat in last night. “When Layla and Theo first got together, Theo was completely unprepared. I took several things to his house for him to borrow until he could order his own things.”
“That was nice of you.”
He squats in front of me and pulls a strap up between my legs before pulling two more restraints around my waist and securing all three points together at my tummy. “I might have had an ulterior motive for all the times I went over to visit Theo and Layla.”
He tickles under my ribs, making me giggle. “Me? You went over there to keep asking them to set us up?”
“Yep.” He stands and attaches the tray to my seat.
“Why didn’t you just ask me out at the club one night?”
“Because I never wanted to put you on the spot. I wanted you to be able to think about it and say no if it didn’t feel right to you. This way was better.” He bends down, tips my chin back, and kisses me. “Now you’re mine.”
Now I’m his…
Chapter Nine
Daddy opens a drawer in the kitchen and pulls out a coloring book, a box of crayons, and a pack of colored pencils. “Will you color me a picture while I make dinner?” He sets all of it on my tray.
I grin. “Yes, but don’t you want me to help cook?”
He chuckles. “Nope. I’d like you to be able to comfortably be Little when we’re at home. I’ll do the cooking and cleaning, Sophia.”
“Always?”
“Yes, always. It pleases me to take care of you. It fills me up inside. It also pleases me to dominate you.”
I lick my lips. “You said you would have rules.”
“Lots of them. Rules that would be appropriate for a Little girl to follow. I bet you can come up with most of them on your own. How about you think of them while I start dinner?”
“Okay,” I open the crayons, glad to see the giant box has six shades of blue in it. I really like to use all of them. I pull out a navy crayon and open the coloring book to a beach scene. It will be perfect for lots of blues.
As I start to color the ocean, I say, “No running in the house.”
“Yep. That’s a good one.”
“Mmm.” I’m pleased with myself. I think some more. “No cussing.”
“Definitely.”
When I glance at Daddy, I see him putting something in a frying pan. I think it’s chicken. “No using the stove?”
“That, too, Little one. Not the oven either. I wouldn’t want you to get burned.”
I look around for the microwave.