Chapter Six
My mind is all over the place when I wake up the next morning after the best sleep I’ve had in fuck-only-knows how long, despite the (likely cheap) mattress being kind of uncomfortable.
Who would have thought that I would have a mind-blowing kink experience at a random age-regression camp out in the middle of nowhere? Not me, that’s for sure.
I’ve never had a Daddy drag things out like that.
I’ve never had a Daddy be somehow so firm and yet so overwhelmingly gentle at the same time.
Most of the Daddies I’ve been with either really get into the shame/humiliation of my favorite kind of bratting and defiance, or they lean into spanking as a go-to disciplinary measure.
And don’t get me wrong: I enjoy both of those things a lot.
But Kris somehow managed to make me feel embarrassed without hamming it up, and his punishment —somehow making me choose to behave without any kind of force— only made that squirmy, fluttery feeling that I live for even stronger.
I still have no idea how he managed it, honestly. Maybe I was just that worked up, so it was easier to push me to the edge, but I don’t think that’s it. There was just something about him and his manner and the calm way he handled me that really did it for me.
I’m not sure how to feel about it.
I wasn’t lying when I told him that I usually just want to get off and then part ways with a Daddy.
But, after yesterday, I can kind of see the appeal in doing more.
Like…not just kink for sexy purposes. I mean, we cuddled and watched cartoons for at least an hour, and none of that made me horny.
It was just…nice. Relaxing. There was no pressure.
It made that post-orgasm floaty feeling last longer.
Kris didn’t demand conversation; he didn’t expect me to act in any particular way. He just let me be.
I’m not used to that. Like, not at all.
Suddenly, I have the urge to actually talk to someone about it, which is also very new for me.
I don’t have any close friends. I never have.
I moved around a lot as a kid and learned early on not to get attached because I couldn’t really keep those friendships going.
Then, as I got older, I realized I was different to most boys.
More effeminate, more childish, more into dicks than boobs. And that was before I discovered kink.
Being the weird, obviously gay new kid taught me to toughen up early on.
I learned to be snarky, sassy, full-on bitchy.
I learned to be louder than the loudest of the assholes, to be unapologetically myself because, at the end of the day, I was going home to myself.
I had to live with myself. I had to make myself happy, not anyone else.
Unfortunately, I’ve since learned that this life training has made me an acquired taste, socially speaking.
Nevertheless, for the first time in a long time, I wish I had close friends.
I know that some of my colleagues are also in the lifestyle —I've seen Anson and Vince at The Grove— but it would be weird to reach out to either of them about this at random, wouldn't it?
Especially when we've never mentioned it at work.
It's like we've all silently agreed not to talk about it.
It would be nice to talk about it, though.
Sadly, this is the bed I have made for myself, and I am going to have to lie in it, or whatever.
But maybe, I think to myself as I get ready for another day at the camp, I can make friends here.
***
“If you're so bored,” sneers James, one of the Middles from yesterday, as I poke listlessly at the pile of long leaves in front of me, “you should go join one of the Littles groups.”
Today I chose to join the basket weaving activity for Middles.
It is not going well. Like yesterday, everyone else is paired up happily, which adds to the weird, lonely headspace I started the day in.
Additionally, the Mommy caregiver running the activity is not as fun to stir up as Kris was.
She didn't seem amused by my sassing, and gave me two warnings that, if I didn't start behaving, she would eject me from the group.
I thought caregivers were supposed to be nicer.
On top of all of that, I'm stuck on a picnic blanket with my new arch-nemesis, so the chances of making a friend today seem to be plummeting.
Trying not to make a face, I reply, “I'm not in Little space. I'm just—”
“You could've fooled me,” they interrupt a bit rudely, and I cut a sideways glance to Ed, their Daddy, to see if any reprimand might follow. My tummy sinks a bit when he stays silent and lets James continue. “I mean, seeing as you're a big baby and all.”
Unwittingly, I strangle the leaf in my hand a bit. “What?”
Smug satisfaction has them quirking their lips and they shrug. “You peed your pants in front of everyone yesterday.”
This loud declaration is met with a few snickers from nearby Middles. Some of the people from the next blanket over turn around to look at me, too. My face heats up.
When I'm braced for it or seeking it, the embarrassment is fun. But when I'm not...
“Well,” I snort, affecting my own haughty tone and straightening my shoulders, “that's an interesting way to tell the class that you have a super vanilla sex life.” Really leaning into the attitude now, I affect a stage-whisper, “I can get you a book called 'Kinks For Dummies', I think it was written just for you.”
“That's enough,” Counselor Becky interrupts as James’s eyes narrow and their cheeks flush with furious indignation. She stands at the edge of our picnic blanket, her hands planted on her hips. “You're done here, Benji.”
I can't help feeling a rush of my own indignation. “What? So it's okay for them to call me a baby, but—”
“I don't want to hear it. You've been disrupting the activity since you got here.”
That isn't fair. Can't she see that I was uncomfortable being unpaired and put in a group where the people in my assigned group weren't particularly welcoming?
I open my mouth to protest. “But—”
“No. You were warned. Get up.”
A rush of shame washes over me, making my chest feel tight and my ears burn.
Again, it's not the kind of embarrassment that I get off on.
It's not within my control, and I haven't chased the high of it this time.
I'm not properly prepared for it. Add to that how inherently unjust this all feels, and I can feel a full-blown meltdown building at the back of my brain.
I'm not giving these people the satisfaction of seeing me upset, though, and I don’t trust this caregiver to look after me if I lose it.
“Fine,” I snap back, dropping the crumpled leaf on top of my half-formed basket. I push to my feet and raise my chin. “I'm going.”
“Reflect on the camp rules before you sign up for the next activity,” Becky tells me as I start to stomp away. Her tone is frustratingly patronizing. I know I shouldn't bite, but...
“That's rich,” I can't help sniping back. “Considering you totally let them” —I point at James— “call me names. Or is it only rule breaking if you don't have a Daddy letting it slide, too?”
She narrows her eyes and points towards the path on the other side of the lawn. “I'm not debating this with you. You disrupted the activity for everyone else and leaving is the consequence. Goodbye, Benji.”
Walking away with my head held high, I can't help but compare today's disastrous experience with yesterday.
My throat feels tight and my nose is stinging, but I refuse to blink as the world around me starts to blur.
If I blink, it will break the seal on my tears.
That is not happening in front of these people.
I was not in the wrong. I wasn't. Yes, I was a bit bratty, but that's just who I am as a Middle/Little.
It's part of how I regulate. Kris seemed to understand that yesterday, but maybe he's the anomaly after all.
Like I told him, most caregivers don't want more than a scene with me, and it's probably because I am too prickly and too much work.
It's only once I'm in the privacy of my cabin that I finally let the tears fall.
Collapsing onto the unmade bed, I press my face into the pillow, letting out a frustrated scream.
It helps shift some of the pressure in my chest, and to suppress the angry buzz in my head, so I do it again. And again. And again.
This is why I should stick to scene play, I think to myself later as I start to calm down. Less disappointment.
At least during scene play, everything is pre-negotiated. There aren't any surprises, and my scene partners are prepared, too. So what if it's not as fulfilling as slipping into headspace and just being myself? It's less frustrating than the situation I wound up in today.
And that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? I've come to this camp to relax, and instead I left my headspace today feeling frustrated and completely out of whack.
Maybe James was right, I eventually decide, though the words feel bitter even in my own mind. Maybe I should hang out with the Littles instead.
It can't be worse than today, can it?