Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
“Welcome to the Littleworld Boutique. How can I help you?”
I grip Daddy’s hand as we approach the kind woman who’s smiling at us. I wonder if she’s a Mommy. I guess she must be because she’s not diapered.
“Hi,” Daddy says. “We’d like to get a few new shirts and maybe some hair bows.”
“Okay. I can help you with that.”
“I’m thinking some tank tops in a size smaller than what she’s wearing now,” Daddy says.
I wrap my arm around his and try not to react.
“No problem. How about if I pull a few options, and you can make sure you like the size?”
“That would be great. Thank you,” Daddy says.
The woman points toward a three-way mirror in the corner. “I’ll meet you by the mirrors.”
I shuffle next to Daddy. I’ll admit to being a bit concerned about this plan. That’s the point, of course. It’s one thing for me to wear a loose T-shirt with no bra. It’s another thing entirely for me to wear a tight tank top with no bra.
When we reach the corner, Daddy helps me onto a raised platform, turns me to face the room, and grabs the hem of my shirt. “Arms up, Baby girl.”
I shudder as I obey him. There are a few other customers in the store, and they turn to look at me. It’s so hard not to cover myself. There’s something very different between exposing my bottom to Littles and Daddies at the BDSM club and standing on a platform with nothing covering my breasts in a public boutique.
“Clasp your hands behind your back, Amelia,” Daddy orders.
My face heats as I do as I’m told. Disobeying him really isn’t an option. I’d rather walk naked down the street than disobey my Daddy. Oddly, though the other patrons glance at me, none of them pay much attention, so this behavior must not be overly uncommon.
Daddy sets the diaper bag on the floor next to the platform, unzips it, and pulls out a tube of something. After flipping the top, he squeezes a bit of it onto his pointer and then squats in front of me to rub it into my nipples.
I gasp. It’s cold, and it tingles, plus he’s playing with my nipples in public. “Daddy…”
He lifts a brow as he applies more of the ointment to his finger. “Do you remember what the doctor said, Amelia?”
I nod.
He gives me a narrowed look.
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper.
“What did he suggest, Baby girl?”
“That you put a stimulant on my titties so they will be hard in public.” I feel younger than ever right now. I’m submitting deeper. My heart is racing.
“Pull your shoulders back, Amelia,” he commands.
I arch my chest toward him and anyone else who wants to watch.
“Good girl. Why did the doctor suggest I keep your titties hard and obvious, Amelia?”
“To embarrass me,” I murmur. I’m certainly embarrassed, and the doctor was right. I’m also unbelievably aroused. The thought of people watching me is making my pussy wet, and I’m still dripping Daddy’s come, which is so naughty by itself that I’m constantly aware of it.
“And what did he suggest I do if you misbehave in public?”
I swallow hard because the woman has arrived with several shirts on hangers in her hand. She waits next to us.
Daddy lifts my chin so I’m facing him. “Answer Daddy. What might be a good form of discipline for Amelia when she’s naughty?”
I draw in a breath and whisper, “To spank my titties.”
“Louder, Baby girl. I didn’t hear you.”
I’m trembling. Part of me realizes most people, especially Littles, wouldn’t enjoy this sort of humiliation, but I’m apparently not like other people. My nipples are growing harder by the second, partly from the stimulant but also because the shop owner is watching me get reprimanded.
I meet Daddy’s gaze. “The doctor thinks I might respond better if you spank my titties or my pussy instead of my bottom.”
“Good girl.” He leans forward and kisses me briefly before turning toward the woman with the shirts and choosing one. “Arms up.”
I lift my arms and let him pull a thin white tank top over my head. It has spaghetti straps and it fits snuggly down to my diaper, accentuating my breasts. Not only are my nipples prominent, but the shirt is thin enough that everyone can see the darker hue of them.
Daddy adjusts the shirt a few times and then nods. “That will work perfectly.” He turns toward the salesperson. “We’ll definitely take this one. Do you mind if she wears it?”
“Of course not. It looks like the perfect choice for her.” She rifles through the others she’s holding and hands Daddy three more. “These are similar options.”
Daddy looks at them and nods. “We’ll take those, too. Thank you.”
After tucking my other shirt into the diaper bag, Daddy turns me around so I face the mirror. I’m shocked by my appearance. I’m kind of skinny because I never eat enough. My breasts are on the small side and usually so are my nipples. Between the stimulant and the tight shirt, my nipples look enormous. My areolas are well-defined, too.
The doctor was right. This pushes my limits and leaves me trembling with need. I’d like Daddy to strip me naked again and fuck me silly.
Daddy lets me pick out a few hair bows before we check out, and when we step out of the store back onto Main Street, I look around and realize most Littles do not have their titties so prominently displayed. Is there something different about me that makes me need to be humiliated?
“Would you like to walk along the street for a while and see all the shops, Baby girl? Or would you rather go home now?”
“Home, Daddy.”
He smiles. “That’s probably a good idea. You need another bottle and a nap soon.”
I’ve had two bottles so far. I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about the taste of the formula anymore. It’s good, and even though Daddy doesn’t fully understand my eating habits, the truth is, I’d much rather live off of a tasty protein drink than ever have to chew and swallow food again. I’m not fond of eating.
I look around as we stroll back toward the golf cart. This place is surreal. I understood the concept, but seeing it is entirely different. Watching all these people go about their lives in deeply regressed age-play relationships doesn’t seem real. How are there this many people on Earth who enjoy this level of age play? It’s both stunning and heartwarming.
Even with my tight tank top, I feel oddly as though I’m where I belong. No one is staring at me. I’m just another Little girl walking down the sidewalk in a town where my attire is the norm.
When we reach the golf cart, Daddy sets the diaper bag down, opens it, and pulls out the tube of ointment again. “Hold your shirt up high for me, Baby girl.”
I draw in a sharp breath, and my hands shake as I slowly lift my shirt, exposing my small breasts. I stay very still next to the golf cart as Daddy puts more of the stimulant on my titties. He takes his time, switching back and forth, rubbing the ointment in until I’m panting with need and my knees are weak.
He leans forward to blow on them next as if the stimulant needs to dry. Maybe it does, but the air from his mouth makes me whimper. My nipples grow even harder.
I don’t dare lower my shirt without permission, nor do I look around to see if anyone is watching me. When Daddy is finished cleaning off his fingers on a wipe, he grabs me by the hips and lifts me off my feet to swing me up into my car seat.
I’m relieved when he lowers my shirt before pulling my arms through the restraint system and cinching it tight around me. The straps resting over my titties are more prominent than earlier. The ride home is going to be intense.