Chapter 10
Natasha
Mr. Hoffman squeezes my hand and leads me into the library. It’s my favorite room in this house. It’s my favorite room in any house. I love how it has a faint smell of old volumes. I bet there are some super old libraries in Europe that have this scent. There aren’t many in the US.
“Would you like to curl up in the corner of the couch and read for a while, Little one?”
I nod, making my pigtails fly.
He chuckles, guides me to the corner of the loveseat where I usually sit, and points to the cushion. “Climb up. I’ll get the book you were reading.”
It’s nearly impossible to keep my panties from showing. The dress is too short. It’s intentional. I don’t know why I care since Mr. Hoffman picked out my panties in the first place.
He hands me the book and then squats down to remove my shoes, leaving me in my frilly socks. “There. Now you can curl your feet under you.”
He doesn’t move from his crouched position as I try to gracefully pull my legs up and tuck them under the dress. I’m sure he gets an eyeful.
With one hand on the arm of the loveseat and the other on the cushion next to me, Mr. Hoffman is surrounding me without touching me. “You can read for an hour, and then you need to do your homework. How much homework do you have to get done today, Little one?”
“A few hours. I’m working on a paper.”
“Okay. Let’s get that started at ten. If you get it done before lunch, great. If not, you can work on it again after naptime.”
I giggle. “Naptime?”
“Absolutely. I want you to rest for an hour after lunch. It’s good for Little girls to take naps. You’ll feel better afterward, and you won’t get crabby later in the day.”
I giggle again as I squirm and try to adjust my dress.
“Leave your dress alone, Little one.”
“It’s…” I don’t even know what to say.
“Is it itching you someplace?”
“No. Every time I move, it rubs against my nipples.”
“That’s half the fun, Little one.” He grins. “When we add a physical component to our relationship, it will get much worse.”
I squirm again.
He grins. “If you were ready to be my Little girl right now, I would hold you in my lap while you read. I would also train you to sit still while I slide my hand under your dress and tease those little nipples mercilessly.”
My breath hitches, and I grip my thighs together. I want that. I want to sit on his lap. I want him to touch me. I want him to lower me onto my back on this loveseat, push my dress over my chest, and suckle my nipples until I’m writhing and so needy I can’t last another moment.
I have no idea what dirty things Mr. Hoffman craves. Now that all bets are off and he’s let loose, he’s going to torture me with future promises. “I could cave and ask you to be my Daddy right now, you know.”
He shakes his head. “Not today. Not this week. If at the end of the day, you decide you want to explore this dynamic further, we’ll turn our trial into a week. I’ll want you to take some time to focus on how it feels to submit to me deeply without adding sex to the equation. We can talk about it again next Sunday.”
I push out my bottom lip.
He chuckles. “That pouty lip won’t work with me, naughty girl.”
“What if I misbehave and disobey you so you need to spank me?”
“I’ve released a monster, haven’t I?”
I shrug my shoulders and tip my head to the side coyly as if I have any idea how to flirt or try to lure a man.
He groans. “If you do naughty things, I’ll keep a tally and spank you at a later date.”
I sigh dramatically. “Fine…”
He taps the book. “Read. Be good.” He rises and moves to the chair across from me. A moment later, he has his laptop open on his thighs, pretending to work. I know it’s not possible, not with me staring at him. He’s faking it.
Without glancing up, he points toward my lap. “You can’t read if you don’t open the book, Little one.”
I giggle and set the book on the end table before leaning my head in the crook of my elbow on the arm of the loveseat. I’m curled on my side with my legs bent and tucked under me, but lifting my arms like this causes my panties to be exposed.
He snickers. “Such a naughty girl. I won’t waver, Little one. My decision is final.”
I sigh again and continue to gaze at him. I’ve seen Mr. Hoffman a lot over the past weeks, but this is the first time I’m able to so blatantly regard him. Before today, I would have turned away embarrassed if he caught me staring. But now I feel compelled to take in his features.
He’s so handsome. Maybe I should be unnerved by his age, but I’m not. He’s forty-two. His age makes him seem more knowledgeable and dominant. It makes me feel even younger, especially considering he has treated me like I’m twelve since I met him.
His hair is the tiniest bit too long. I want to run my fingers through it. His eyes are a deep green that I get lost in when he stares at me with the intensity he often does. He is cleanly shaven this morning, but I like the dark shadow his face gets in the evenings. I want to know what it will feel like against my skin. Will he rub it on my inner thighs?
I never take my eyes off him, and after about a half an hour, he closes his computer and sets it aside before rising and coming toward me. I hold my breath as he approaches, wondering what he might do.
He sits on the other end of the loveseat, bends one leg, and turns his body sideways so he’s facing me. With one elbow resting on the back of the couch, he gives me a devious grin that makes me shudder.
“I’m going to punish you, Little one.”
My heart rate picks up. He said he wouldn’t touch me. Has he changed his mind?
“Turn so that your back is leaning against the arm of the couch with the pillow tucked behind you.”
His request is odd, but I do so.
“Good girl. Now, lower your left leg off the side of the loveseat.”
I slowly obey him, dropping my leg so my foot dangles off the edge of the cushion.
“Bend your right knee and press it against the back cushions, Natasha.”
My tummy flips over. I’m spread wide open, breathing heavily. How is this a punishment?
“Do you feel vulnerable, Little one?”
I nod.
“Lift your dress a few inches so I can see those pretty panties.”
I’m panting as my trembling fingers do his bidding. I don’t know myself. Have I bitten off more than I can chew?
“Good girl. Do you feel naughty?”
“Yes, Sir,” I murmur as I fist the hem of my dress and hold it against my tummy. I love the way he’s looking at me. His eyes are smoldering.
“Bring your hands up to your little breasts and cup them, Natasha.”
I shiver from head to toe, but I’m almost hypnotized. I can’t disobey him. As soon as I cup my breasts, I whimper.
“Flick your nipples with your thumbs, naughty girl.”
I gasp. Can I do this?
“Don’t overthink it, Little one. Do as Daddy tells you.”
The first tap against my nipples makes me gasp. I’m so aroused. My legs are shaking badly.
“Keep your legs open, Natasha,” he admonishes. “Wide. Vulnerable. Naughty.”
How is he so calm? He’s not even flinching.
“Did you touch your little nipples like this the other night, Natasha?”
I nod. “But not for this long, Sir,” I murmur.
“You may only touch them when I instruct you to from now on. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you know what’s happening upstairs in your room while we’re in the library, naughty girl?”
My eyes widen. What is he talking about?
“A man is installing a security camera in the corner of your bedroom.”
I stop breathing. My fingers stop moving. I’m frozen as I try to absorb his words. Surely I’ve misunderstood him.
“You heard me. It’s like a nanny cam. It’s motion sensitive. I’ll be able to check it and make sure you aren’t touching yourself without permission.”
My face is so hot it’s going to catch on fire. The thought of Mr. Hoffman watching me makes me quiver. It’s so wrong. I should be incensed and tell him so. Instead, I say nothing as I imagine him staring at me in the night.
“I won’t be able to see you in the bathroom. Just the bedroom. Which means you need to get in and out of the bathroom without lingering in there. Understood?”
I nod, but I don’t think I’ve blinked or breathed since he mentioned the man in my room.
“I won’t see you bathing, using the potty, or changing clothes, Little one. It’s only meant to keep you from masturbating in bed.”
I’m certain I’m going to slide right off the side of the loveseat and become a pool of liquid on the floor.
“Keep rubbing those nipples, Natasha.”
I flick them again. They’re so sensitive.
“Does that feel good, Little one?”
“Yes, Sir.” My voice quivers.
I want it to be him touching me. I want to feel his fingers on my breasts. I’ve wanted that for a few weeks.
“Don’t stop until I tell you to, Natasha,” he orders.
I jump and resume stroking my nipples. I feel so very Little and naughty. How is this a punishment?
“That’s a good girl. Touch them lightly. Just a tiny flick. Now, bring one hand down to your panties and stroke your middle finger over the cotton across your clit.”
There’s a low humming in the room, and I realize it’s coming from me. The moment I tap my clit for the first time, I cry out and lift my hips off the cushion.
“Shh…” Mr. Hoffman waggles a finger at me. “No noises. We’re in the library. You don’t want Edith or Arthur to come and check on you, do you?”
I shake my head and purse my lips. I’m glad the back of the loveseat faces the door. If anyone walked in, they wouldn’t even see me lying here.
“Does it excite you to think someone might catch you touching yourself?”
It does. I’m such a naughty girl. I nod.
He smiles. “You have no idea how sexy you are. Stroke your clit again. Keep your pussy covered with your panties, though.”
He’s evil. He’s evil, and I love it. This is so dirty. I’ve never touched myself at all, and Mr. Hoffman is making me do it in the library of all places. I’ll die if I get caught.
“Shhh… Quiet, Little one. No noises.”
Am I moaning? I probably was.
“Do you feel the need building inside you?”
I nod. My legs are trembling. I need something. I need more . I’m na?ve, but I know I need to come. The only way to make this intense pressure in my tummy disappear is to orgasm.
I flick my clit faster as I pinch my nipple with my other hand. I can’t believe how wanton and brazen I’m being.
I draw in a breath and stiffen as I get close to exploding.
“Stop,” Mr. Hoffman orders.
I blink at him in confusion and whimper like a wounded puppy.
“Remove your hands, Natasha. Set them on your spread knees.”
I’m shaking and close to tears as I obey him.
“Good girl. Deep breaths.”
I try to breathe, but I’m not capable. All the blood in my body has gone to my pussy and breasts. There’s none left to convince my lungs to expand.
“Sir…” I beg. My voice is high-pitched and whiny.
He simply smiles gently. “Orgasm denial is an excellent form of punishment. I can and will force you to the edge of the cliff without letting you come any time I want.”
I think I might cry. That’s the closest I’ve ever been to understanding what an orgasm feels like. If I’d known it before this morning, I would have found a way to rub my clit twice a day for the past several years.
Instead, I’m just finding out what I’m missing now, and it’s too late for self-exploration. After all, someone is installing a camera in my room right this minute. I’ll never have the opportunity to masturbate ever again. Not if I commit to being Mr. Hoffman’s Little girl for the rest of my life.
“It’s not pleasant, is it, Natasha?”
“No, Sir.” I sniffle, trying to hold back the tears of frustration.
“I said I won’t touch you. Not for at least a week. I mean that. I won’t change my mind. You need a clear head to make this decision. I don’t want sex to muddy the waters and confuse you. If you want to spend the next week challenging me every step of the way, you will also spend it with multiple ruined orgasms.”
“I’ll be good, Sir,” I whine.
“I know you will. You will also test me. But you’ll learn that I will not be dissuaded. When I make a rule, I mean for you to obey it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Is your pussy still throbbing?”
“It’s not as bad as it was a minute ago.”
“Good. Lie there like that with your legs open for five more minutes, and then you can get your backpack and bring it downstairs to do your homework.” He gets up from the end of the loveseat and walks away.
I watch him, admiring his fine ass and the muscles bulging on his thighs and biceps. It’s a Sunday, so he’s at his most casual, but that’s not saying much for Mr. Hoffman. Casual means perfectly pressed khakis, a button-down shirt, and loafers. It’s not a suit and tie, but it’s only marginally less formal. I wonder if the man even owns a pair of jeans.
Finally, he looks at me. “You can get up now, Little one. Go get your bookbag and meet me in my office.”
His office? I haven’t spent much time there. I don’t question him, though. I quickly stand and right myself. My legs are still wobbly, my nipples are hard as rocks, and my panties are soaked. I just survived the strangest punishment, and I’m certain there are more surprises like it to come.
I’m up for the challenge.