Chapter 12
Natasha
“It’s nice to meet you, Natasha.” Mr. Odell extends a hand to shake mine as I enter his office two days later. I feel like Mr. Hoffman and Professor Arnalt ganged up on me, but I’m here. How bad can this be?
Mr. Hoffman drove me to this appointment, and he’s sitting in the waiting room. That’s not intimidating at all. Nope. Not a bit. I can already imagine him asking me a million questions on the journey home.
“Please sit wherever you’d like.” Mr. Odell waves a hand around his office.
There are two armchairs and a loveseat. I opt for the loveseat and sit rigidly, tucking my skirt under me. I pull my sweater around me and clasp my hands in my lap.
“Please call me Quinten. I prefer to be on a first-name basis with my clients,” he says, taking a seat in a large swivel chair across from me. He’s tall and broad, with a few gray hairs around his temples. His smile is welcoming and friendly.
“Are you cold?”
I shake my head. “No, sir.”
He leans back, studying me as he smiles. “Quinten.”
I bite my lip. I don’t think I can call him by his first name.
“Have you ever had counseling before, Natasha?”
“No, sir. I’m not sure why I’m here now.”
“Do you feel like counseling is only for someone with a problem?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”
“Well, I’m of the belief that most people could benefit from a little therapy. Hopefully, I can be someone you can talk to and work through anything that might be bothering you.”
“I don’t think anything is bothering me,” I tell him.
“That’s fair, too. How about I tell you what I already know? This is a slightly different situation than usual because Jameson called me and listed his concerns when he made your appointment, so you’re at a bit of a disadvantage here. I want to clear that up first. Going forward, my loyalty is to you , not Jameson. You’re the client in my office. Not him. I will not share anything we discuss with him or anyone else from this moment forward. Do you understand?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
He continues, “So, here’s what Jameson told me. He was contacted by his friend, your professor, Camden Arnalt, about sponsoring you for the semester because you were in need of housing. He felt a connection to you immediately and spent a month gradually dominating you in more and more ways until you confronted him on Saturday night about his intentions to be your Daddy. Does that sound accurate?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If any of that is different from your perspective, please correct me.”
“That’s basically how it happened.”
“Did you know anything about age play before you moved in with Jameson?”
“No, sir, but my friend Simone does, so she helped me understand. I’ve done a lot of research. I feel like I have a pretty good understanding of it now. I’m really not sure why I’m here.” I’m nervous and a bit frustrated with Mr. Hoffman and Professor Arnalt for pushing me to see a therapist.
“Jameson wants to make sure you’re making the best decisions and have all the correct information. He’s worried you’re too quick to jump all in as his Little girl.”
“He’s told me that.”
“Tell me about your dynamic. How much time would you say he’s dominating you?”
“Before or since Saturday?”
“Let’s talk about both and how the difference makes you feel.”
“Before Saturday, I would say he was dominating me about eighty percent of the time. It took me a while to fully grasp that because he can sometimes be subtle about it, but that’s probably accurate.”
“Subtle, how?”
I draw in a slow breath. “He has a way of nonchalantly telling me what to do. Most of the time, he masks it under the guise of safety. Like my car. It had a lot of problems when I arrived. Albert took it to a mechanic.”
“Albert is one of Jameson’s employees, right?”
“Yes. He and his wife Edith manage the house.”
“Go on.”
“So, I never saw the car again. Mr. Hoffman told me it wasn’t safe to drive it because it might break down. Albert started driving me to and from school. My only other option is to let Mr. Hoffman buy me a new car, and I’ve repeatedly told him no because that’s way too expensive an item to buy someone living with you as a charity case.”
“Is that how you see yourself? A charity case?”
I sigh. “Not so much now, but let’s face it: He took me in when Professor Arnalt asked him to because he felt sorry for me. You can’t just move a stranger into your home and buy her a car. Room and board is one thing. The phone. The computer. The clothes. The list is long. I’m indebted to him for everything. I can’t add a car to that list.”
“Do you feel indebted to him?”
“In a way. I certainly can’t pay him back. He keeps encouraging me to work on my life’s passion instead of getting an advanced degree or a job. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be able to even consider taking time off to work on a book. It’s a frivolous idea.”
“Do you feel like you’re in a committed relationship with Jameson?”
“I guess. It’s a weird one, though. I keep thinking he’ll get tired of me. I don’t know what he sees in me.”
“So, you’re worried things will end with him, and then you’ll feel like you owe him for everything he’s bought you, and that would be compounded if you accepted a car.”
“Exactly.” I’m feeling less upset by this visit now. Mr. Odell seems to understand me. It’s kind of nice.
“Those are reasonable concerns. Why do you call him Mr. Hoffman?”
I shrug. “He never asked me to call him by his first name, so I never call him anything except Sir and Mr. Hoffman.” I’m surprised when I chuckle. “Except sometimes I call him Mr. Controlling.”
Quinten smiles. “To his face?”
“Yes.”
“Sassy. I like it.”
I sit taller. Quinten isn’t judging me.
“In what ways is he controlling? Give me some examples.”
“Goodness, there are a million ways. Let’s see…” I pull my sweater tighter around me and think.
“Are you sure you’re not cold, Natasha?”
I glance down and then shake my head. “I’m not cold, but the reason I’m pulling my sweater around me is a great example of how controlling Mr. Hoffman is.”
Quinten lifts his brows. I like how he’s smiling, intrigued.
“Sunday, he took over my life one hundred percent of the time. Not just eighty. I haven’t even been to the bathroom without his knowledge since I woke up on Sunday morning. He sets out all my clothes each day now. On Sunday, he set out clothes for a toddler, which embarrassed me for a while until I realized Albert and Edith fully understand age play. I’ve gotten used to them seeing me in this role. But then Monday came around, and Mr. Hoffman set out what I was supposed to wear to school. He didn’t give me a bra because he said Little girls don’t wear bras. I stood my ground until he relented, but when I got home, I found out he’d purchased me an array of training bras as a quote compromise.” I hold up my fingers in air quotes.
“How did that make you feel?”
“Twelve.”
He chuckles. “I guess his goals were met. But how do you feel about being in the headspace of a twelve-year-old when you’re at the university?”
“Weird.”
“Did you wear a training bra yesterday and today?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Are you worried someone will notice?”
“Not if I keep my sweater wrapped around me. But what happens when the weather gets nicer? Does he expect me to wear a white T-shirt over a pink, lacy training bra?”
“Have you asked him?”
“No. I’m afraid of the answer.”
“Well, since it bothers you, I suggest you talk to him.”
“He’s so controlling. I haven’t noticed him being remotely flexible on any issue.”
“Have you challenged him on anything before this?”
I sigh. “No.”
“It sounds like you won a small battle on Monday because you did end up wearing a bra to school. And while you were gone, he came up with a compromise. If you don’t like the compromise, you need to stick up for yourself.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you afraid to challenge him?”
I shrug. “A little. I mean, I need a place to live. If things go bad between us, I don’t know what I will do.”
“You definitely need to talk to Jameson about that fear, Natasha. He needs to listen to and understand your worries and concerns. Would you feel better tabling the idea of entering into a more committed relationship with him until your housing agreement is over?”
The thought of not submitting to him makes me feel queasy. I can’t imagine putting our weird relationship on hold for months. It was weird from the beginning. Now, it’s just weirder. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Then I think you need to make it a priority to talk to him about your feelings. He can’t know if you don’t tell him.”
“Yeah.”
“Other than the situation with the bras and the car, how does the rest of his dominance make you feel? I ask this partially from a position of having inside information. I’ve known Jameson for many years. I know he’s an extremely demanding Dominant and Daddy. He likes total power exchange. I’m pleased that he recognizes that you’re young and na?ve, and he’s reached out to me to help make sure you’re happy in such an intense dynamic.”
I draw in a deep breath and lean back so I’m not sitting so rigidly. I still keep my sweater tight around me. I’ve been doing this all day. “I like how it makes me feel when he dominates me. If I didn’t, I would have run from the house before unpacking my bags. I’m self-reflective enough to realize I’ve never had an authority figure in my life. Maybe when I was a toddler, but by the time I was five, I was grown up.”
“Jameson mentioned you grew up in foster care.”
I nod. “Yes. I was lucky. I was placed with a nice family when I was about five, who were good to me. They had a lot of foster kids, though, and I was well-behaved and quiet, so I kind of got ignored most of the time. Not in a bad way, exactly. It just happened. No one gave me any rules. No one disciplined me. So, I guess I crave it now. It feels nice to have someone set boundaries and make decisions for me.”
“That’s very self-reflective, Natasha, and I’m inclined to agree. There are many reasons why people enjoy age play. One of those is because they missed out on something when they were younger. You’re filling a hole. It’s a perfectly safe and healthy thing to do as long as both you and your caregiver are on the same page.”
I like that he keeps agreeing with me. It’s validating.
“Earlier you said you don’t know what Jameson sees in you. Let’s talk about that for a minute. When someone says something like that to me, it tells me they have low self-esteem. Do you not see yourself as worthy of Jameson’s devotion?”
I consider his words and what they mean for me. “I don’t know. It just feels off balance. I’m half his age. I have nothing to my name. I’m always going to be relying on him for everything.”
“I try not to worry much about people’s ages. I see all kinds of age gaps. Some are like yours. Some are even wider. Some are the other way around, with the woman being older. Is it possible that Jameson is simply deeply attracted to you—to the entire package that is Natasha Miller?”
“I guess so.”
“I’ve known him a long time. He’s a very wealthy man, but he’s not the sort who cares much about money. He just happens to have it, and he likes to use it for good causes. I’ve known him to donate to a wide assortment of things over the years. In this case, he offered room and board to a woman who needed a place to stay. It was a coincidence that he found himself attracted to you. I may be overstepping a bit when I say this, but there is no way he would ever require you to pay him back for anything he’s done for you. Now, that being said, it doesn’t change the fact that you feel indebted to him. You own your feelings. I won’t negate or belittle them. Put that on your list of things to discuss with him so he’ll understand better where you’re coming from.”
“Yes, sir,” I murmur. While I don’t really want to have a confrontation with Mr. Hoffman about my concerns, I should do it anyway.
“Tell him exactly what you’ve told me. That you’re worried if things don’t work out, you will feel like you owe him.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s go back to the deep submission he wants from you. Does that seem like a lifestyle you’re interested in?”
I think about his question for a minute and then nod. “Yes. I mean, I like how it makes me feel.”
“Tell me more about that.”
“Cherished, loved, important. I know he’s just being controlling when he tells me I have to be home by nine, but I like knowing someone gives a damn about where I am and that I’m safe.”
“Could it be there’s more to this than simply him being controlling when he has a driver take you places and enforces a strict curfew?”
“I guess it’s also because he’s worried about me. But those are really tight reins to have in place, even on someone much younger than me. Most people would rebel.”
“But you don’t rebel.”
“I guess I like it. I get a rush when he tells me to be at the curb by four to meet Albert, when he texts me to make sure I’m safe, and when he reminds me to be home by a certain time. It’s so dominant. So controlling. And it lights me on fire.”
“Sexually.”
It’s not a question. Quinten is simply verifying what I mean. My cheeks heat again. “Yes,” I whisper, looking down at my hands.
“Does that embarrass you, Natasha?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not alone. There are some people who enjoy age play and keep it completely separate from sex. Others find age play and sex weave all around each other at the same time, especially people who live in a twenty-four-seven dynamic. Even though you go to school, you still live mostly as Jameson’s full-time Little. He monitors you even when you’re in your adult headspace. He Daddies you constantly. How much of the time do you think his demands make you feel arousal?”
I purse my lips.
“There’s no right or wrong answer, Natasha. I’m not judging you, but I don’t want you to think your reactions to your Daddy Dom are in some way inappropriate. They’re not.”
That’s exactly how I feel. Naughty. And it’s delicious. But I can’t tell Quinten that.
“Would you say you feel aroused most of the time, Natasha?”
Finally, I nod without looking up.
“Does that make you feel bad?”
“Sometimes. I know it’s irrational.”
“It’s not irrational. It’s not even uncommon. Lots of people find submission titillating, and that’s why they crave it. When it’s full-time, like your arrangement, it can be frustrating to be constantly stimulated.”
“He won’t touch me until I’m certain I want to be his,” I murmur.
“That’s probably wise and responsible, Natasha. It will keep both of you from getting hurt if things don’t work out.”
I lift my gaze. Tears gather so fast I can’t stop them. “It’s way too late for that, sir. If things don’t work out, I would be just as devastated today as I would be if we were having sex. I think I’m in love with him. It’s so stressful because I’m not sure that’s how he sees me.”
Quinten gives me a warm smile. His next words are soft and kind as he hands me a tissue. “I haven’t asked Jameson if he’s in love with you, Natasha, but I can say it’s been a very long time since he’s had a Little girl. I suspect his overprotectiveness has something to do with a past experience, but I’ve never spoken to him about it. I do believe that someone who would be insistent about not adding a physical component to your relationship must think you’re pretty damn special. If you weren’t, he wouldn’t care about what adding sex might mean.”
I consider his words and nod as I wipe my eyes.
“It’s also rare for a Dom to call me and ask me to speak to a prospective submissive. It tells me you’re incredibly important to him. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” I force a smile.
He returns the smile. “I think we’ve covered a lot of topics today. What do you think?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. I guess Mr. Hoffman and Professor Arnalt were right.”
Quinten chuckles. “There’s no right or wrong here. There are two Dominants who care a great deal about you and want to help. I’d say you’re one very lucky Little girl.”
“I guess so.”
“Think about discussing the concerns we spoke about with Jameson. I’m not suggesting you do it today or even tomorrow. You’re going to be exhausted from our session. Today’s not a great day to start an important discussion.” He glances at the notes he’s been jotting down every once in a while. “You need to address your concerns about wearing a bra at school, the fact that you feel like you might owe him for everything he’s done for you, and your worry that his feelings for you might not be as strong as yours. Three things. You don’t have to address all of them this week. Just some things to think about in the future. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to see you again next week.” He stands.
I stand also. “Okay.”
He heads for the door but turns to address me again before opening it. “You’re a strong woman, Natasha. I can tell that. Do not confuse submission with weakness. Submission requires a tremendous amount of inner strength and self-awareness. You have those in spades. I know you’re going to be fine. You’re new to the lifestyle and scrambling to learn more about yourself every day.”
“Thank you, sir.” His parting words make me feel like I can walk on air.
As I step into the waiting room, Mr. Hoffman rises. He smiles at me and extends a hand.
I must look rather beaten because he pulls me into a tight hug. It’s the first one he’s ever given me, and I wrap my arms around him and hold on tight. It feels symbolic, like he’s absorbing the weight on my shoulders. Without words, he’s telling me, “I’ve got you,” and I’m telling him, “I really like it.”