Chapter 9
Natasha
It takes me forever to get to sleep, and it seems like only a minute later that I’m jolted awake. I open my eyes to find Mr. Hoffman sitting next to me. He has one hand on the other side of my torso, but he’s not touching me.
“Is it morning?” I ask, my voice scratchy.
“Yes, Little one. I let you sleep late, but it’s time to get up, now.” He stands, still not touching me.
I kind of wish he would cup my face or something, but he doesn’t. And I shouldn’t be surprised. He said he wouldn’t touch me until I agreed to be his Little girl.
“I set clothes out on your vanity, Little one. Wear exactly what I left. Nothing more. Nothing less. Put your hair in pigtails like you did the other night. Take a bath first. Use the soap I left on the edge of the tub. Have you ever used a hair removal cream or shaved your pussy, Natasha?”
I can’t breathe. I’ve been awake for thirty seconds and already I feel the weight of his dominance all the way to my bones. “No, Sir,” I whisper.
“I left you a removal cream. It’s gentle. Apply it. Leave it for five minutes, and then wipe it off with tissues. Then take your bath.”
“W-why?”
He smiles in that devious way that tells me he knows things I do not. “Having a bare pussy will help you feel like the Little girl you are. You’ll see.” He leaves the room.
When he’s gone, I’m left panting. I’ve only been awake a minute, but I’m wired as though I had two of those mocha lattes and the soda from last night. I scramble out of bed and pad over to the bathroom.
I never lock the door, but this time I do. If I’m going to spread my legs and do something weird to remove my hair, I don’t want to run the risk of anyone coming in. I’m never sure when Edith might come to grab the laundry hamper, or now that things are beyond awkward with Mr. Hoffman, he might think of something else and waltz back in, too.
I’m shaking as I strip off my nightie and panties before picking up the bottle of hair remover. I quickly read the directions, which are shockingly exactly as Mr. Hoffman stated. Then, I decide to lower myself into the tub, open my legs, and apply the cream.
The next five minutes are an eternity as I wait for the timer on my phone to go off. My mind is racing. I’m nervous and excited. I can tell Mr. Hoffman is going to dominate me in ways I can’t even begin to imagine today. I’m up for the challenge, but I’m scared at the same time.
The man has a tendency to throw new things at me so fast my head spins. Today he started by ordering me to remove my pussy hair. Even the word pussy is so naughty that it makes me tremble. Mr. Hoffman certainly didn’t use the word before last night. Apparently, this new phase we’re entering includes new words.
When the alarm goes off, I wipe away the hair, surprised by how easy it is. I’m left staring at my bald sex. It gives me a bit of a rush. I know it’s common for women to shave or wax down there, but I’ve never had a reason to.
As the bath fills, I grab the soap Mr. Hoffman told me to use. I can’t keep from giggling. It’s baby soap. I’m going to smell like a baby. I hope he doesn’t insist I use it when I have class. Is our trial only for today? We didn’t discuss it specifically.
After a quick bath, I dry off and reach for the pile of clothes. My heart races as I realize what he’s left me. These are not things that were in my closet. He must have been preparing for this. I’m not surprised.
The panties are white with tiny little stuffed bears on them. When I put them on, I start panting. It feels so weird with no hair. I look around for a bra. Nothing. Deep breaths, Natasha . He doesn’t want me to wear a bra… Nothing about Mr. Hoffman should shock me.
Next is a dress. It’s a soft green babydoll style with thin straps at the shoulders like the one I tried on the other day. The top section is about three inches of flat material that rests across the upper swell of my small breasts, under my arms, and across my back. The rest of the dress flares out right above my nipples to hang loose down my body. It lands about two inches below my panties. If I lift my arms, people will see the white cotton with the bears print.
The socks I pick up are white and frilly, the kind that fold over at the ankles. He’s left white flats with a little buckle to go with them. And finally, a small white sweater. It’s short with three-quarter sleeves. It’s really just meant to cover my arms since it’s winter. It doesn’t cover any of my chest.
I brush my teeth, put my hair in pigtails, and then look in the full-length mirror. I can’t believe I’m going to leave the room dressed like this. What will Edith and Albert think? I’m grinning. I love this look, but I’m nervous because I feel so naughty.
Somehow, I find the courage and head down the stairs and into the kitchen. All three of them are there when I enter. For a second, I consider turning and running back up the stairs, but Edith spots me.
She smiles. “Good morning, sweetie. Don’t you look pretty?” She turns toward Albert. “Look how pretty she is today.”
“She sure is.” Albert winks at me.
Mr. Hoffman is grinning broadly as he stands from his spot at the kitchen table. “You look lovely, Little one. Come.” He pulls out a chair for me on the back of the table so I’m facing the room. When I sit, I try unsuccessfully to tuck the hem of the dress under me.
Mr. Hoffman leans in and whispers in my ear, “Sit on your panties, Little one. Leave the dress alone. Spread your knees and wrap your ankles around the legs of the chair.”
My breath hitches. When I don’t move fast enough, he lifts a brow, forcing me to comply. My pussy pulses, and wetness leaks out to coat my panties.
“Good girl. You’ll sit like this at the table.” He turns toward Edith and Albert as he resumes his place next to me. “Natasha is going to experiment with various levels of age play until we determine what suits her,” he announces.
My face heats, and I lower my gaze, mortified.
“Excellent. I think this dress is a great place to start,” Edith says, setting a plate in front of me. Neither she nor Albert seem the least bit surprised. Granted, I’ve been submitting to Mr. Hoffman since I moved in. They couldn’t have missed the signs.
“Enjoy your breakfast,” Albert says before he and Edith leave the room.
Mr. Hoffman has nothing but coffee in front of him.
“Did you already eat?” I ask.
“Yes, but I’m going to sit with you. While you have your breakfast, I’ll lay down some new rules.”
“New just for today? Or new forever?”
“We’ll see how today goes, Little one. See how it makes you feel.” He lifts a hand and hesitates. “Do you mind if I touch your face or hands?”
I shake my head. “No, Sir.” I’d love it if he would touch me. I crave contact with him far more than the sustenance of the scrambled eggs in front of me.
He smiles as he strokes my cheek. “You look adorable. How do you feel?”
“Naughty.”
“Perfect. That’s the goal. Did you have any problems with the hair remover?”
“No, Sir,” I whisper, shuddering.
“Now you know why I asked you to do that. Your pussy feels extremely naked in your panties, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.” I can’t believe we’re discussing my pussy at the breakfast table. I glance down at my chest. “You didn’t give me a bra,” I murmur.
“I’ll never give you a bra when you’re Little. If you want to experiment with a slightly older age, like twelve, we can see about getting training bras.”
I can’t breathe. He’s so intense. His gaze never wavers. He’s pinning me to the chair with his rules and his dominance. “I can’t go to school like this, Sir.” I gasp.
“I’ll make different clothing choices when you have to leave the house, but if you decide to submit to me as my Little all the time, when you come home after classes, you’ll change into outfits that make you feel Little. It’ll help guide you into a certain mindset that’s called Little space. You won’t notice much difference because you already exist with one foot in Little space as it is. You just didn’t know it. I’m confident you’ll feel more comfortable in your own skin if you follow my guidance.”
“I feel so strange,” I admit, “especially without a bra.”
“That’s normal. It will get easier in time. Wearing a bra distracts you from the total effect.” He strokes his fingers down one of my pigtails. “You did a good job with these. I’ll do them myself when you make the decision to be mine.”
The thought of him fixing my hair makes me moan inside. At least, I hope it’s inside my head.
“Eat, Little one. I want you to have a glass of milk with breakfast and dinner.” He points at it.
“Okay, Sir.” I think I stand a better chance of swallowing if I start with the milk.
When I reach for the cup, Mr. Hoffman stops me with a hand around mine. “Two hands, Little one.”
And just like that, I’m doubting my ability to swallow liquid. I’m shaking as I lift the cup with both hands and take a drink. “Good girl.”
I set the cup back down.
“I’ve told Edith to moderate your portions, so you have an amount of food you can manage. Let me or Edith know if it’s too much or too little. I’d like you to clean your plate. I can always get you more if you’re still hungry, but I want you to learn to eat what’s provided.”
I’m gripping the legs of the chair so hard my ankles are already hurting.
Mr. Hoffman lifts my chin with one finger. “How are you feeling?”
“Are you going to ask me that every five minutes, Sir?”
“Yes.” He’s searching my gaze. “Tell me about your physical reactions.”
“I’m shaking, my tummy is flipping, my breasts feel heavy, and my panties are wet. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
He lifts both brows. “What I want to hear is the truth. No need to be sassy, Little one.”
“Sorry, Sir.”
“I will reprimand you often because it’s part of age play. You crave a firm hand, and I’m going to give that to you.”
I nod and look at my plate. Under normal circumstances, it would be the perfect amount of food. A scrambled egg, a slice of bacon, and two small pancakes. How am I going to eat this morning?
“Do you want me to feed you, Little one?”
“I…can do it,” I whisper.
“I know you can . I’ve watched you feed yourself for a month. Would you like me to feed you this morning?”
I meet his gaze. How did this happen? My world is upside down.
“There’s no right or wrong answer, Little one. Not about your breakfast. If you’d like me to Daddy you by feeding you, I will. If you’d rather do it yourself, that’s fine, too.”
When I’m still too flustered to respond, he reaches over and picks up my fork. After scooping some eggs onto it, he holds it up to my mouth. He’s very patient and not pressuring me.
I open my mouth, lean forward, and take a bite. I can’t believe I’m letting Mr. Hoffman feed me.
“Good girl.” Next, he reaches for the syrup and drizzles it over my pancakes before cutting a bite. He continues to feed me in silence until the plate is clean. “Finish your milk, Little one,” he says softly.
I reach with both hands and pick it up, feeling younger than I’ve ever felt since I got here. It’s weird, but it feels nice.
He smiles at me and wipes my lips when I empty my glass. “It’s been a long time since someone’s taken care of you, hasn’t it, Little one?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He stands and holds out a hand. “Come. Let’s go to the library.”
I take his hand. As soon as I’m on my feet, I use my other hand to smooth the back of my dress, making sure my panties are covered.
He lifts my chin. “Leave your dress alone, Little one. Let yourself be in a headspace where you don’t care about anyone catching a glimpse of your panties. They cover more than the bikinis most girls wear these days. No one in this house is going to glance twice if your panties show.”
“How much did you tell Albert and Edith about this?”
“I didn’t have to tell them much, Little one. For one thing, anyone who knows anything about kink can see that you’re Little. You’ve been submitting to me for a month, and my staff know I’m a Daddy Dom. Edith and Albert are members of the kink community, too.”
I gasp. “They are?”
“Yes. I don’t ask questions about what happens in their free time. That’s not my business, but I know they have a power dynamic behind closed doors. They have never judged me, and they will certainly not judge you.”
“Have you had other Little girls living here?”
“No, Little one. Never. You’re the first. I haven’t had a Little since I moved into this mansion after my parents passed.”
“Oh.” I’m relieved. For some reason, it bothers me to think that Mr. Hoffman has had a revolving door of other women living in this house, maybe even using the same room as me.
“We good?”
“Yes, Sir.”