Chapter 5
One month later …
Natasha
I slide into my favorite booth across from my friend Simone in the campus coffee shop and drop my backpack onto the seat next to me. I told Mr. Hoffman I would be studying this afternoon, but that’s not in my plans. I’m here to pick Simone’s brain.
“New backpack?” she teases, nodding toward my bag.
I sigh. “Yeah.”
“It suits you.” She’s grinning. “That dress is cute, too.” Now her eyes are dancing. “It looks expensive.”
“Stop it.” I give her a dismissive wave, but it’s impossible not to laugh. I’ve known Simone since my freshman year. We didn’t really start hanging out as much as we do now until this semester. Until I moved in with Mr. Hoffman. Until I had more time to hang out with anyone.
A month ago, I was a zombie, working my ass off to get through school, working too many hours, barely scraping by, and never eating enough. I was always tired and hungry. Now, I’m a new person.
Most of the time, it’s unnerving. Mr. Hoffman tries to be subtle about things, but he never stops buying me clothes, shoes, bags, and accessories. He has brought up the subject of getting me a car several times, but I’ve refused. That’s going way too far.
“Are those…” Simone leans in closer, squinting exaggeratedly at my dress. “They are. Those are tiny little hearts. When are you going to start listening to me?” She leans back, giggling, and then glances around. “Where’s your driver? Is he lurking around here somewhere?”
I roll my eyes, groan, and drop my forehead against the table like the true drama queen I’ve suddenly become. When I lift my face, I tell her, “We have three hours. He’s not coming until four.”
The beauty of today is that our last class, which we have together, got canceled. I didn’t tell Mr. Hoffman that. I simply let him and Albert believe I needed to be picked up at four as usual.
Simone pushes to standing. “I have a feeling this is going to be an intense conversation. We’re going to need coffee. I’ll go place our order.”
I pull out a ten and hand it to her, not meeting her gaze.
She’s still staring at me, grinning. “You’re not allowed to have coffee, are you?”
I purse my lips and say nothing, which causes her to laugh again.
“I knew it. Well, girlfriend, we’re living on the edge today. I’m getting you a mocha latte. It’s both chocolate and coffee. You’ll be bouncing off the walls when you get home. Mr. Hoffman’s palm will be twitching. If you want to go all out, you could also be late.”
She pretends to swoon, setting the back of her hand over her forehead. “I’d give anything to be in your shoes.” Cue the dramatic sigh. And then she’s gone, weaving through everyone toward the counter.
The coffee shop isn’t too crowded for this time of day. I’m eager to ask her dozens of questions. Ever since Simone saw Albert picking me up one day, she’s been hounding me for information. She has it in her head that Mr. Hoffman is into something called age play, and her insinuation has caused me to do a lot of research on the topic. Now, my head is spinning, and I need to know more.
I check my fancy new phone for messages and find one from Mr. Hoffman. Of course.
Just checking in, Little one. Albert is still supposed to pick you up at four?
A part of me feels extremely…naughty for lying to him. I never lie to him. Hell, I’ve never lied to anyone . I’m not really lying today, either. I’ve just failed to mention that my last class was canceled. Omission isn’t the same as lying.
But it feels like I’ve done something very naughty. Like a five-year-old sneaking a cookie from the jar.
His text isn’t odd. He sends a similar text every day. He likes to keep tabs on me. He’s Mr. Controlling in every way.
Yes, Sir. Four o’clock. Thank you.
As soon as I hit send, my breath hitches. Oh. My. God . I’m shaking as Simone slides back into the booth.
“What’s wrong? You’ve gone white.”
I hold the phone out for her to see. “Look.” I slap my forehead. “I didn’t double-check before I hit send. The S is capitalized on Sir. It freaking autocorrected.”
Simone winces, but she’s giggling again. “It will be fine.”
“Fine?” My voice rises. “He’s going to read something into it.”
She pushes one of the cups of coffee toward me. “Here. Try the mocha latte. It’s delicious. You’ll love it.”
She’s changing the subject. I’m still staring at the text as I sip. It is good, but now I feel even naughtier. And since when do I use such a childish term, even in my head?
I’m watching for three little dots, indicating he’s responding. When I see them, I hold my breath.
See you when you get home. Hope your class is riveting and educational.
At least he didn’t mention the Sir . Thank goodness. And his odd humor isn’t weird. He says strange things like that often. My stomach does a little flip when I respond with a smiling emoji. I’m such a liar.
“So,” Simone begins, “tell me everything. What’s been going on? I’m living vicariously through you.” She’s practically bouncing in her seat.
Simone is in a goth phase. She often wears all black, including heavy black eyeliner and even black lipstick. Her hair is jet black. She dyes it that color, and she likes to wear it in high pigtails. She has on black boots, black leggings, and a short black dress today.
I wish I were that brave. I prefer to blend in so no one notices me, although lately, with my new wardrobe, I’m no longer blending nearly as well. Everyone is used to seeing me in jeans, boring T-shirts, and sweaters. Things I got from a thrift store. I didn’t have much before going to live with Mr. Hoffman, so I wore the same things over and over.
It’s embarrassing how many different outfits I now own, and I rarely wear jeans, mostly because Mr. Hoffman has taken over most of my clothing choices, and he seems fond of dresses. It’s cold out, so I’m wearing pink leggings under my pink dress. I also have on warm pink boots. I’m dressed similarly to Simone, except substitute black for pink and eliminate the makeup.
Mr. Hoffman hasn’t purchased any makeup for me. I have some mascara and eye shadow left that I already owned before I met him, but since my arrival, he’s only replaced my lip gloss—usually with something pink, extremely subtle, and flavored.
The few times I put on any makeup when I first moved in, he kind of frowned and told me I didn’t need it. So, I mostly stopped wearing it. I applied mascara two other times in the last few weeks to test him and see what would happen. He managed to keep his thoughts to himself, but his eyes narrowed when he noticed, and he pursed his lips.
Inside, I laughed.
Outside, my panties got wet.
I get aroused every time he scowls at me. He’s lived up to his nickname: Mr. Controlling. When I do something he doesn’t approve of, he gives me that narrow-eyed gaze with the pursed lips as if he’s struggling to hold his tongue.
When he does verbalize his preferences, my nipples get hard and my clit throbs. However, I’ve realized my reaction is the same from just that disapproving look. The man can dominate me from across a room without saying a single word. Sometimes, I can feel his gaze without turning around.
Simone sips her coffee. “Start talking, girlfriend.”
I draw in a breath as I swirl the mocha latte around the cup. Will Mr. Hoffman notice that I had caffeine? Is that really something a person can tell? I’m barely aware of the effects of caffeine because I’ve rarely had any. My foster family didn’t buy soda. We drank water. I haven’t been able to afford anything like that since I’ve been on my own.
Coffee is something I’ve had so rarely. This mocha latte is delicious, though. I might want to get it again.
“Get out of your head, Natasha. I know you didn’t ask me to sneak off with you like a naughty girl just to sit and stare at your cup,” she jokes.
“You’re right. So, I’ve been researching age play like you suggested.”
“And?”
“I think you’re right. I think Mr. Hoffman is a Daddy Dom.”
Simone chuckles. “I know I’m right. Every sign is there. Plus, like I told you, he’s a member of the kink club I sometimes go to. So is Professor Arnalt.” She makes a swooning motion again.
Simone has been half in love with Professor Arnalt since freshman year. It drives her crazy that he never gives her any more attention than any other student. In fact, just to entice him, she keeps changing her style. Goth is her current phase, though this one has been going on for a while.
“Have you seen either of them doing stuff at the club?” I ask.
“Doing stuff ?” She’s so humored by me. “Like scenes with Littles? No. But they don’t come often. When I see them, I leave immediately. I suspect they do the same. It’s possible there’ve been times they came in and I didn’t notice them, or they left before I could.”
I sigh. “I don’t know. If he is a Daddy, why not just come out and tell me?”
She shrugs. “I think he’s waiting for you.”
I frown.
“He’s giving you time to realize you’re a Little on your own. And you have. In a way, you’re already his Little girl. You have been living that way since you moved in. Everything he does is in the Daddy handbook. He keeps close tabs on you, he took your car and gave you a driver, he created the Littlest room I’ve ever heard of for you, he hovers… I bet there are ten other things I don’t even know. Oh, you have a curfew! That’s so Daddyish, Natasha. And it’s not midnight. It’s nine.” She laughs.
“Well, it’s not like I have places to go.”
“Why don’t you challenge it? You and I could make plans to go out one night. I could even pick you up to make him really nervous. He’d shit a brick if I came to the door dressed like this.” She gestures to her dress.
“We don’t need to give the man a heart attack.” But I’m considering her idea. It’s not a bad one.
“Does he tell you when to go to bed?”
I wince. “Sort of.”
“Does he make sure you do your homework?”
“Yeah,” I admit.
She’s grinning. “Does he let you cuss?”
I shudder. “I’ve never even tried. I’m afraid he’d have a coronary.”
“Does he tell you when to eat?”
My shoulders drop as I nod.
“I know he doesn’t let you have caffeine. What about alcohol?” Simone is grinning knowingly.
“You know he’s never offered me alcohol. I used to think he didn’t see me as old enough to drink it. I’ve never tried it, so why would I care?”
She continues, “Did you pick any of your new clothes?”
“No, but the personal shopper did. Mr. Hoffman wasn’t even there.”
She lifts a brow.
I groan. “You think he tells her what to buy me?”
“I know he does.” She leans forward. “What does he call you?”
I scrunch up my face.
She laughs. “Tell me. I’m so damn jealous I’m going to orgasm from the thought of that man Daddying you. You’re so lucky. Fess up. What does he call you?”
“Little one.”
She moans as though I’ve injured her. “Natasha… He’s your Daddy.”
I flinch. “He can’t be. He’s never said a word about it.”
“He didn’t have to. You came to him with the propensity to be Little. He just recognized it and groomed you.”
“I don’t like the way that sounds. It makes him sound manipulative and like a predator.”
She shakes her head. “He didn’t force you to do anything. Has he ever touched you inappropriately?”
“Never.”
“But you wish he would.” She lifts a questioning brow.
“Yeah.” No sense in denying it. I sip more of my coffee. It’s growing on me. I’m definitely going to order more of these in the future.
“Where’d you get the ten dollars you handed me for the coffee?”
I roll my eyes.
She shoots me a glare. “You have an allowance, don’t you?”
I don’t even bother to answer her.
She collapses dramatically to the side for a moment before resurfacing. “Does he call it that? Please tell me he says, ‘Here’s your allowance for the week, Little one.’ I need to live vicariously through you. I’m going to masturbate to that.”
“Gross. You can’t masturbate to thoughts of Mr. Hoffman.”
“Oh, it won’t be Mr. Hoffman I’m thinking about.” She gives me her best dreamy look. “It will be Professor McHot.”
I giggle. Simone has had the hots for Professor Arnalt forever. He’s never going to look at her like that. He’s too much of a strict rule follower. He’d get fired if he ever dated a student.
“I think you should confront him.”
“I can’t. I’m not brave enough.”
“You have to, Natasha. You can’t go on like this forever. You’re burning up for the man. You have to tell him the jig is up. Tell him you know he’s Daddying you. Force him to admit it. And then maybe take off your shirt.”
I gasp. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Gasp. Did you just use a cuss word?”
I roll my eyes.
“Seriously, though. Confront him. How many pairs of panties do you go through a day waiting on him to make a move?”
I ignore her silly comment about panties. The answer is embarrassing anyway. I often change my panties when I’m at home. They’re not comfortable when they get wet. Changing them makes me nervous, too, because I have absolutely no privacy. I don’t do my own laundry. Edith does it. I just hope the woman doesn’t tattle to Mr. Hoffman that I use twenty pairs of panties a week.
“What if I’m totally reading this wrong and he thinks I’m a lunatic?”
“You’re not.”
“What if he only sees me as a Little and not in a sexual way? I’d die of mortification.” I’ve read about this. I know some Daddy/Little relationships are not sexual. It’s possible Mr. Hoffman does Daddy me, but that’s all it is to him.
“What do you have to lose?”
“My housing?”
She cringes. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. There is that. You’d be too embarrassed to stay there if you found out the feelings were unrequited.”
I sigh. I can’t think of anything worse.
“So, here’s my idea,” Simone says. “Let’s go out tomorrow night. It’s a Friday. He can’t possibly tell you no. Then we’ll get home a few minutes after your curfew. It’s the best way to test the waters. When he reprimands you, that’s your segue. You can confront him and see what happens. You could say something like, ‘What are you, my Daddy?’”
I consider her idea. It could work. Or it could be the biggest mistake of my life. “There’s something else to consider. What if everything goes exactly how you’re suggesting? He confesses he’s a Daddy, tells me he wants to be my Daddy, and even informs me he’d like to have sex with me. Then what?” I shudder. Am I prepared for what comes next?
“Then the fun begins, Natasha. Let that man Daddy you to death. Your life will be so fucking perfect, and I’ll be twice as jealous.”
I glance at my watch. “Yikes. It’s almost four.” I down the rest of my coffee and grab my bag. “Thank you so much for meeting with me. I mean it. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
When we both stand, I hug Simone tightly. “One day, I hope Professor Arnalt sees how wonderful you are.”
She shrugs. “It’s a long shot. He’s twice my age. But you never know. Maybe I should ditch the goth look and try for sweet, angelic like you.”
I giggle. “Maybe.” After releasing Simone, I turn and jog out of the coffee shop. I’m not quite going to make it to the prearranged meeting spot by four, but surely Mr. Hoffman won’t find out I was a few minutes late.