Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Amber
I glance at the door for the millionth time. I will die of mortification if Isaac comes up here. I’m having fun, but it’s tainted by the possibility of him seeing me in a headspace I’m definitely not ready to share with him. I’m not sure I ever will be. This is unexpected.
Maybe I was lying to myself earlier when I accepted Cassandra’s invitation to come over. Cassandra doesn’t really spend much time in an adult headspace. Even when we’ve gone out to lunch, she’s hovered in her Little space. I haven’t known her long, but I’ve never seen her wearing anything particularly adultish. I don’t think she even owns grownup clothing.
I’m in her room. I’ve been here before. In fact, every time I glance at her closet, I’m reminded of the day I met her when she was totally mortified at my sudden, uninvited appearance in this house. She ran from the room and hid in the back of this closet. I felt so bad for embarrassing her that I climbed in behind her. We bonded that day. It was the first time I considered that I might have a Little side. That didn’t mean I intended to let her out.
Cassandra sets a hand on my arm. “It’s okay. I told Daddy, I mean, Spence, errr… your brother , not to let Isaac come up here. You can relax.”
I glance at the rows of dresses. It’s not just Isaac I’m not ready to reveal myself to. I’m not hip on Spence or Ben seeing me experimenting, either. Ben is like a second brother. Even though they’re older than me, that doesn’t mean I want to share something so personal with either of them.
Alice has been in. She left us a tray of sandwiches and tiny cakes on the small table Cassandra has in this playroom so she can color, draw, or create art projects. It’s adorable—white with two pretty white chairs. It’s not small like for a child, but it’s smaller than adult-sized. I’d say it’s average female-sized.
Cassandra has been encouraging me to turn this into a real tea party complete with dress-up, and that’s why we’re standing in her closet, looking at rows of dresses.
I chew on my bottom lip. Should I?
Cassandra scrunches up her face. “I would close the door, but Spence and Ben would have a fit. I’m not allowed to close it.”
A giggle bubbles up inside me. “Really?” The idea sounds so ridiculous. Why would two grown men have the ability to tell a grown woman she can’t close her playroom door?
I shiver at the idea, though. I should be far more stunned than I am. Instead, I’m kind of jealous. I wonder what it’s like to have someone—or in Cassandra’s case, two someones—bossing you around all the time.
“That’s like a rule?” I ask. “No closing the door?”
“Yep.”
“What do they think you might do in here if you had some privacy? Color outside the lines?”
Her cheeks turn pink, and she shakes her head, sending her pigtails flying. “That’s not what I’m forbidden from doing,” she admits.
“Oh.” I gasp. Seriously ? I lean in closer and whisper, “They don’t let you masturbate?”
Her cheeks turn a darker pink as she shakes her head again and purses her lips.
I clench my thighs instinctively. My heart is racing. I’ve never thought about what it would be like to have a man, a Dom, tell me not to touch myself. How fucking sexy is that?
I throw caution to the wind, grab the most colorful dress she has in her closet—one covered with bold flowers in every color in the rainbow—and rush over to her bathroom to change. “Are you coming? You’ll have to help me if I’m going to get this thick hair up in pigtails like yours.”
Cassandra claps her hands together and joins me in the bathroom.
I close the door, but I don’t lock it. My brother would never come into a bathroom, knowing I was in it. Before I lose my nerve, I strip out of my shoes, jeans, and tank top and pull the pretty party dress over my head. When I spin around, it flares out, making me feel free and…Little.
“Will you fix my hair?” I drop onto the toilet lid as Cassandra grabs a comb and brush.
She’s good. It doesn’t take her long to part it and gather it up in two high pigtails. She even ties rainbow ribbons in both of them. When I look in the mirror, I almost don’t recognize myself.
I tell myself there’s no way Isaac is going to come upstairs. This is my time. I want to explore and not worry about him seeing me. Maybe, someday, I’ll be able to open up with him, but not today. I’m not ready. Or I might change my mind and never be ready.
I know Ben and Spence will check on us. Alice will definitely pop in a few times. Maybe even Freud. But none of them bother me as much as Isaac. Maybe that’s ridiculous and irrational, but Isaac… He’s the only one who matters. He said I’m his girl. If that’s ever going to be true, I don’t want to fuck it up or give him the wrong impression. I’m experimenting, nothing more. I don’t want him to think that just because I played dress-up and had a tea party with Cassandra that I’m Little now.
I follow Cassandra back into her playroom, skipping. I don’t know when I last skipped. It feels freeing. That’s the word that keeps coming to mind. Freeing .
We sit at the table and fill our plates with sandwiches.
Cassandra pours us both tea out of the pretty teapot into the adorable china cups. “It’s pretty weak. Sorry about that. My Daddies aren’t fond of me having caffeine. They bent the rules a bit for a tea party, but not all the way.”
I bite into my lip while she pours. “What other rules do you have?”
She smiles. “You sure you want to hear this?” Her voice is slightly more adult all of a sudden. I’ve rarely seen her in any adult headspace.
I nod. “Yes. I’m curious.”
“Okay.” She takes a bite of a cucumber sandwich, chews, and swallows. “I’ve always tried to keep my Little to a minimum when you’re around so you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable. I promise. I never want you to feel like you can’t be who you are when I visit you.”
She gives me another sweet smile. “We have lots of guests in our home. I don’t practice age play in front of some of them.”
“I doubt my brother has many people over who aren’t involved in the kink community and would judge you.”
“True.”
“So, tell me,” I nudge before taking a bite of a pimento sandwich. These are so yummy.
“Well, first of all, you should know that Littles play in all different age ranges. I play at a pretty young age.”
“Like, how old?”
“Like, toddler range.”
I slowly nod, trying to imagine what all that might involve.
“Which means I’m not permitted to touch the oven or stove. I don’t go near the knives. There’s no running in the house. No leaving without one of them. No cussing. No shouting. No talking back.”
I’m slightly shocked. I shouldn’t be, but I am. It’s one thing to know that my brother and his family practice this particular kink. It’s another thing to hear the specifics. “And if you break a rule?”
Her cheeks pinken again. “I get spanked, and usually, I have to stand in timeout afterward.” She licks her lips. “They always spank my bare bottom. That’s kind of a BDSM thing. I’m sure you’ve seen it at the club. Daddies like to see the skin they’re spanking so they can be sure they don’t injure the submissive. And then…” She draws in a breath and looks down at her plate. Her voice lowers. “And then they make me stand in the corner, holding my dress up so my red-hot bottom is on display.”
I can’t breathe. I’m doing everything I can to ignore the fact that this is my brother we’re talking about. Anything more would be TMI. But I can’t keep from picturing what it would be like for Isaac to spank me. I’m about to hyperventilate over the idea of spending time in the corner.
Cassandra lifts her head. “Sorry. You asked.”
I nod. “I did. Don’t be sorry. I want to know.”
“So, yeah, I play pretty young. I have toys and dolls that are young. I can’t explain it, but it’s freeing to let go and let someone else take care of me.”
I giggle. “That’s the word I keep thinking— freeing .”
She smiles. “It’s appropriate.”
“How much time are you alone?”
“Almost never.” She grins. “Because how long would you leave a toddler alone? See? If I’m fully in the role, one of them is usually with me. Occasionally, I play in here for a while without them, but there’s a baby monitor, and they’re always watching.” She points to the corner of the room by the ceiling.
I gasp. “Shit.” Then I cover my mouth as though I’ve broken one of her rules, and they apply to me. I lean in and whisper. “Can they hear me?”
She’s smiling. “Yes, but I’m sure, right now, they’re simply spot-checking me on one of their phones in mute. They won’t show Isaac.”
I squeeze my thighs together tighter. I feel warm and can’t believe how titillating I find all this. I’ve never thought hard about it before, and certainly not from a sexual perspective. “Do they even let you pee alone?”
Her smile grows. “Sometimes.”
I gasp, my eyes widening. “I was kidding.”
She giggles. “I wasn’t. I haven’t washed my own body since the night I moved in,” she adds.
I lean back, holding on to the edge of the table to keep from fainting. Somehow, I never realized her lifestyle was quite so intense. I don’t know if I would like to live quite that young. I’m kind of stunned. And kind of aroused.
She waves a hand through the air. “Enough serious talk.” Her voice rises, making me realize her Little voice is at a higher octave than her adult one. “Let’s eat cake!”
She turns the plate so that the tiny cakes face us, and we each take three of them. They’re so small that I can pop one in my mouth all at once.
Cassandra glances at the camera, which I now know is in the corner of the room, and takes a bite out of one of the cakes, turning it into two mouthfuls.
I giggle. “Will someone spank you if you put too much food in your mouth at once?”
“Definitely.”
When we’re stuffed, Cassandra jumps up and turns on some music. It’s not very loud, but it’s upbeat and fun. “Do you want to know the best part about wearing dresses like this?” She grabs the hem, indicating the short length and fullness. Her dresses—including the one I’ve borrowed—are definitely what a toddler would wear.
“What?” I ask as I join her.
Cassandra spins around in a circle, causing the dress to flare out around her. She nearly falls over, catching herself with a hand on the dresser. She covers her laughter with a hand over her mouth as she glances at the camera.
“I assume Spence and Ben do not allow that.”
“Never.” She drops onto the floor in a fit of giggles. “But I do it anyway sometimes because you know what one of the best parts about being Little is?”
“What?”
“Spankings.”
I cringe. “Really?”
“Yep. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. I swear. If you’re ever feeling stressed about something, all you have to do is break a rule because a good spanking releases the tension. A really hard spanking that makes you cry and burns your bottom is even better. You’ll sleep like a baby afterward.”
I stare at her. I’ve considered that. I’ve wondered if it would be like that. It seems like it when I’ve watched people get spanked at Surrender. They seem blissed out afterward, like they’re high. They often need aftercare and someone to keep an eye on them while they float back to Earth. It’s still difficult to comprehend.
What would it be like to have Isaac spank me? If I had a dollar for every time I’ve pondered that…
I shake off my musing, glance at the corner of the room as though I, too, might get in trouble for spinning. Then I twirl around in a circle so fast that I totally lose all sense of up and down. I’m aware of my skirt flying up so high that anyone watching would see my panties. I can’t stop because it’s fun.
But then I get dizzy and lose my footing. Before I know it, I’m falling. I see the corner of the dresser coming at my face, but I can’t stop the momentum, and I end up slamming my chin onto the wooden corner.
Shit. I’m so dazed that I don’t even notice the pain for a moment, but then I realize I’m bleeding and grab my chin. My first thought is that I don’t want to get blood on Cassandra’s dress.
I’m vaguely aware of her crying out before she races to the door and shouts, “Daddy!”
I squeeze my eyes closed and try to catch my breath. “I’m so sorry,” I mutter as Cassandra kneels in front of me, holding a towel.
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because I’m getting blood on your dress, and I’ve ruined your tea party, and you’ll probably get in trouble.” Tears well in my eyes. I can’t stop them. I don’t cry. I never cry. Except I’ve cried more than once in the past twenty-four hours.
I’m aware of the room filling with testosterone. Not surprising. Male voices. I grit my teeth when I realize one of them is Isaac. I can’t really be mad. Even though he wasn’t meant to come upstairs, there’s no way he wouldn’t come running if I were injured, which apparently, I am.
It’s Isaac who squats down next to me and tips my head back. “Let me see, baby,” he says softly. He’s so calm. And he’s calling me baby in front of everyone. I don’t even care right now. I want to crawl onto his lap.
When I lower my hand, he holds my chin and leans in closer. “You really conked it.”
Someone hands him something.
“I’m going to press a cloth to your chin, baby.”
I wince as he covers my chin with the cool, wet cloth. He holds it tight, cradling my head. He even leans over and kisses the top of my head. “It’s going to be okay.”
I’m shivering, probably from the adrenaline rush. “Is it bad?”
He smiles at me when I meet his gaze. “It’s going to need a few stitches, and you’ll have to give up your dreams of becoming a chin model, but other than that, you’ll be fine.”
I wince. “Stitches?”
“Yes, baby. It’s too deep to just put a bandage on it.”
I’m shaking harder now as I glance around. Cassandra is leaning against Ben, looking sorrowful as if she caused this. My brother is squatting near me but not as close as Isaac. Spence doesn’t interfere.
Isaac glances at Spence. “Can someone drive us to urgent care?”
Spence nods. “Of course. I’ll drive your car. Freud can follow in one of ours to bring me back.”
“Thank you.”
Tears escape to run down my cheeks. I hate that I can’t stop them. I’m confused. I think I’m stuck in Little space, and I can’t get out, especially not with Isaac Daddying me like he is.
“Give us a minute,” Isaac says.
My brother stands and ushers everyone out of the room, closing the door behind him. That makes me cry harder. He’s left me with Isaac, who is clearly in charge of me. He’s my man. He’s the one who takes over as though I’m his responsibility. As though I’m his .
Isaac takes my hand and brings it to the cloth. “Can you hold this here, baby?”
I press against it, surprised when he lifts me into his arms and carries me into the bathroom. He sets me on the bathroom counter and keeps one hand on me while he wets another washcloth.
“Let’s switch.” He takes the bloodstained one from my face and sets it in the sink before gently wiping my tears and probably some blood. Finally, he covers the wound again and tips my chin back. “We’re going to go to urgent care so they can stitch this up, Little one.”
I swallow. My heart is racing. Can I be his Little one? I can’t argue with him right now. My head is spinning.
His brows furrow as he looks into my eyes. “Do you want me to help you change into your street clothes?”
Oh shit. The dress. I can’t go to urgent care wearing this babyish dress. I also can’t change myself. One of us needs to keep a hand pressed against my chin.
“I could get Cassandra to help you.”
I shake my head. “No. You do it.” I almost add Daddy to the end of that. I must have hit my head harder than I thought. Maybe I have a concussion.
“Okay,” he says softly. He reaches around to the back of the dress to lower the zipper before easing the front of the dress away from my body.
I have to switch hands a few times to get my arms out of the sleeves. I can’t believe I’m sitting here in nothing but my bra and panties in front of Isaac. Not just any bra and panties.
Coincidentally, I’m wearing a lacy pink set. I can’t remember when I last wore this sexy lingerie. I don’t know why I put it on this morning. After I chose the pink tank top, it just seemed like the pink bra was a good choice.
I’m trembling from shock and nerves as Isaac carefully lowers my tank top over my head and helps angle my hands through the armholes. He grabs my jeans next and guides my feet into them. After a minute, he chuckles. “Baby, how did you get these on this morning?”
I purse my lips. I’m glad he’s keeping things light, but it would hurt to laugh, so I stifle it and shrug. It’s actually kind of comical when he lifts me by the hips, stands me on my feet, and continues tugging the stretchy, tight denim up my body.
I hold my breath because his face is level with my pussy. It takes far too long for him to get me into these damn jeans, zipped, and buttoned. I’ll think twice before wearing them again.
He’s squatting in front of me when he tips his head back and smiles. “These jeans are sexy as fuck, but lordy, baby, how long does it take you to pee when you wear them?”
I start to giggle and stop myself, wincing as the cut splits open.
He cringes. “Sorry. I’ll try not to make you laugh.” I’m back on the counter again so he can put my shoes on. After that, he sets the corner of the pretty dress in the sink, adds the stopper, and fills it with water.
“Did I ruin it?”
“Nope. Just a few tiny spots. They’ll come out. I promise. Let’s get you to urgent care.”