Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“You could also be Little in my home, Baby girl. Why not?”
I chew on my bottom lip. Why not? He has a point. No one would know, right? Especially not my parents. Could I possibly date this man, keep my Little side a secret from the world, and let myself be authentic in his home?
It’s not something I’ve ever considered.
“Don’t worry about tomorrow, Zia. Embrace today. Let yourself be as Little as you want for the next twelve hours. After that, I’ll take you home, and you can sleep on it and take some time to think about whether or not you’d like to spend more time with me.”
He’s offering me the world. I can’t possibly turn him down. He’s only suggesting I try this out for today. I know in his heart he’s already plotting forever, but he’s not pressuring me beyond today.
Except for the fact that he filled this room with furniture, toys, and clothes for me. But no pressure.
I lift my face to look at him. You only live once.
“Okay.”
Chapter Three
Gabriel beams. “I won’t let you regret it, Baby girl.” He grabs a hanger from the closet and holds out a very young outfit. It’s a white cotton dress with tiny pastel flowers all over it. It will be very short, but it also has bloomers that match the dress. “How about this?”
“For what? You want me to change?” Of course he intends for me to change. He said I could before we left my apartment.
“You won’t feel very Little if you spend the day in that very adult sexy dress.” He lifts a brow, grinning.
I glance at the closet. Did he have to choose something so young?
“Go big or go home,” he jokes.
I lick my lips. “Okay.” I reach for the hanger as I turn to look toward the other door. “Is that the bathroom? I’ll go change.”
He pulls the outfit back. “The door doesn’t lead to a bathroom, Zia,” he says in his usual gentle voice. “The nursery connects to the master bedroom.”
“Oh. Where do you want me to change?”
“I don’t, Baby girl.” He slowly approaches me. “I’d rather you let me change you.”
“Ohhh.” I take a step back and cross my arms as goosebumps rise on my skin. I don’t think I’m ready for something like that.
Gabriel takes the outfit over to the changing table and sets it on top before heading for the rocking chair. He sits and reaches for me. “Come sit on my lap, Baby girl.”
I glance at the outfit. It’s less intimidating now that he’s not holding it, so I shuffle toward him. When I’m close enough, he lifts me off my feet and settles me across his lap before leaning me back in his arms, cradling me.
As he starts rocking, he rubs my arm. “Let yourself relax. Let’s talk for a while. Do you have a favorite stuffie you sleep with?”
His question startles me, but I realize he’s distracting me. I shake my head. “I don’t have any stuffed animals.”
He gives a mock gasp. “Why not?”
I giggle. “I don’t know. I’m not Little at home.”
“But you have a lot of pretty dresses that you wear to the Dungeon.”
“I keep them in a locked storage compartment in the basement of my apartment. My mother is far too snoopy for me to keep anything like that in my closet.” I wince. I really sound pathetic.
“Ah. That makes sense. But no stuffed animal? Not even one?”
I shrug. “Sometimes when I read books, I think about what kind of stuffie I would like if I were Little.”
“You are Little, Zia. Just because you don’t practice your preferred kink very often doesn’t make it nonexistent.” He lifts a brow, continuing to rock me.
He’s right.
“So you read books about Littles?”
“Yes. They’re in my ereader. My mother doesn’t snoop in there. She doesn’t even know I have an app for an ereader. Nor does she know the password to get into it.” I really sound pitiful.
“You work very hard to hide your true self from your parents.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to deal with their judgement and the fact that they would never accept me as I am.” Horrifyingly pitiful.
“What if you were gay or transgender or bisexual?” he asks.
“I would never tell them,” I respond without hesitation. “Being Little is marginally different. Most people who are Little spend some of their time in their adult headspace. They have to work, for example…” I hesitate, thinking for a moment. “Though I suppose a lot of people who are gay pretend they aren’t at least part of the time. Or all of the time…” My voice trails off.
“That’s sad, isn’t it?” he asks. He rolls me closer to him and pats my bottom rhythmically as he rocks. It’s soothing.
“Yeah…”
“Some people are Little all the time,” he points out. “The ones who live on Regression Island for example. They never have to pretend they’re someone they’re not.”