Chapter 12
Lucy
L ast night was magic. Exploring the carnival with Daddy, had filled me with such a wholesome, happy feeling. Something about chatting to Brett had felt special, too. Being back here in Small Falls, surrounded by all these kind people, it really had started to feel like I was home.
Sunlight streamed through my curtains as I blinked awake. Memories of last night with Marcus flooded back - his warm hand in mine, the tender kiss on the Ferris wheel. My heart fluttered at the thought.
At the end of the night, we’d kissed and I’d headed back to my place. It had made it feel like a real date—even though we’d kinda met by chance. I’d hated being away from him, but, at the same time, it had made me crave seeing him even more.
I felt this huge bubble of hope inside me. It was a feeling I was pretty familiar with. I normally felt this way at the start of all my relationships. A crazy storm of hormones and happiness.
In the past though, that bubble of hope never lasted.
It would be different this time, right? Marcus was different. I was different.
Or was I?
Wasn’t I doing exactly what I always did? Ignoring the potential issues? Letting myself be blinded by my feelings?
I’m so glad you’re a Little.
Doubt crept in. That all-too familiar foe. I felt the doubt coil its tendrils around my chest. Was I falling too fast again? Making the same mistakes? I sat up, hugging my knees.
I needed to talk this out. Grabbing my phone, I texted Marie: "Coffee at The Daily Grind?" Her response pinged back immediately: "Always!"
Relieved, I got dressed and headed out, hoping Marie's perspective would help untangle my jumbled emotions. The scent of fresh coffee and pastries enveloped me as I stepped into the cozy cafe. Marie waved from our usual corner table.
"Hey girl," she smiled as I slid into the chair across from her. "Good time at the carnival last night? When I saw you and Marcus, I got all excited."
“You did?”
“Mmhmm. I figure I’m going to be collecting on my bet sometime soon.”
I sighed, fidgeting with a sugar packet. I didn’t know what to say.
Suddenly, Marie’s eyes were full of concern. “Oh love, I’m just kidding around. Sorry. Is everything okay?”
"I don’t know. I think so. There’s literally nothing bad except for my stupid brain.”
“I’m here to listen.” She gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
“Well. Last night with Marcus was . . . amazing. But I'm scared, Marie. I’ve been here so many times. Thinking that I’ve met the perfect guy, only for it to all fall apart. What if I'm rushing into this like I always do? I don't want to crash and burn again."
Marie smiled, kindly. "Lucy, you've grown so much. Trust yourself. And Marcus seems like a really good guy. Don't let past hurts stop you from something potentially wonderful."
“You know,” I said. “Marcus knows I’m a little.” I didn’t want to out Marcus as a Daddy Dom, but I was comfortable talking about myself.
“That’s great. He’s okay with it?”
“I think he likes it,” I said. “Or at least he likes me.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “You must feel good to be able to be yourself around him.”
I swirled my latte, watching the frothy patterns dissolve. The air in The Daily Grind felt heavy, like it was pressing down on me, demanding I voice the thoughts swirling in my head.
"I do," I started, my voice barely above a whisper. "But, I can't help but wonder—does Marcus like me for me, or is it just because I'm a Little?" The words tasted bitter as they left my mouth. I turned to look out the window, avoiding Marie's gaze. The street outside buzzed with life, a stark contrast to the storm inside me. "I sometimes wonder if he would still be with his ex-wife if she had been one? What if I'm just a replacement or filling a role he wants?"
Silence hung between us, thick and tense. I could feel Marie's eyes on me, her concern almost tangible. Finally, she reached across the table and gently touched my hand, grounding me.
"Listen," she said, her voice full of warmth and certainty. "From what I've seen, Marcus cares about you deeply. It's not just about your identity as a Little." She squeezed my hand, drawing my attention back to her. Her brown eyes sparkled with sincerity. "He appreciates you—your humor, your kindness, your strength."
I wanted to believe her, to let her words wrap around me like a comforting blanket. But doubt was a persistent shadow, lurking just beyond the edges of my mind.
"Think about the moments you've shared," Marie continued, a smile playing at her lips. "The way he looks at you, Lucy. It's genuine. Those aren't things you can fake, not for long."
I nodded slowly, trying to absorb her reassurance. Maybe she was right. Maybe there was more to Marcus's feelings than just our dynamic. But the fear of being used, of being a mere placeholder, clung to me stubbornly. I hoped, desperately, that I could find the courage to trust him—and myself.
"You're not the same person you were before," Marie said, her voice steady as she held my gaze. "You've grown, and you're more aware of what you want and need. Trust yourself to make the right choices." The corners of her lips lifted in a reassuring smile. "And maybe give Marcus a little credit too. He seems like a good man who genuinely wants to be with you."
I absorbed her words, feeling their weight settle inside me. They were simple, yet they carried a truth I hadn't allowed myself to see. I nodded, letting out a slow breath. "Thanks, Marie," I said. Her support was like a lifeline, pulling me from the murky waters of doubt.
We parted ways outside The Daily Grind, Marie's laughter lingering in the air as she disappeared down Main Street. I turned in the opposite direction, my feet guiding me along familiar paths through Small Falls. The town buzzed with life—shopkeepers setting out displays, children playing tag on the cobblestones, the gentle hum of conversations blending with the distant sound of the waterfall.
As I walked, I tried to untangle the knot of thoughts in my head. Marie's words echoed within me, challenging the doubts that clung stubbornly to my heart. Could I really trust myself this time? Could I trust Marcus?
I paused by the riverbank, watching the water cascade over rocks, its rhythm steady and sure. It reminded me of the moments I'd shared with Marcus—the easy conversations, the comfortable silences. The way he listened, his eyes attentive and sincere.
But then, the fear crept back in, whispering old insecurities. What if this was just another mistake? Another heartbreak waiting to happen?
I shook my head, determined to quiet those fears. I wanted to believe in us, in the connection we'd built.
Continuing my stroll, I passed by Wilkins' Hardware, the scent of wood and metal wafting through the open door. It was a comforting reminder of Marcus, grounding me in reality rather than the fantasies concocted by my anxieties.
To my surprise, though, the store was closed. I wondered where Marcus was. Well, I had to head back home to get on with the renovations. No time to linger.
As I rounded the corner, my house came into view, and there it was—Marcus's truck parked right out front. My heart did a little dance in my chest. I quickened my pace, curiosity pulling me forward.
"Hey, what’s going on?" I called, trying to keep my voice steady. My porch was in desperate need of repair, but seeing Marcus bent over those rotten wood planks made everything feel a little brighter. He was focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked, the casual t-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders.
"Thought I'd surprise you," he said, straightening up. His grin was infectious, a smudge of dirt giving him a rugged charm that made my stomach flutter. "This porch needed fixing, and I had some free time."
"Wow, thank you." A rush of warmth spread through me, pushing aside the lingering doubts from earlier. It was the little things—his initiative, his care—that spoke volumes.
"Just doing my part," he replied with a shrug, as if it were no big deal. But it was. To me, it was everything.
I stepped closer, catching the scent of sawdust mingling with the fresh air. Watching him work, so effortlessly competent, was oddly intimate. I couldn't help but smile, feeling both grateful and strangely nervous. It wasn’t just about the porch; it was about what it meant.
“You want a drink, Mister Renovator? I’ve got some cokes in the fridge.”
“Wouldn’t say no,” he replied, wiping the sweat from his brow.
I popped inside, brought out a couple of cokes, and passed one to Marcus.
The cold drink felt good in my hands, the condensation trickling down to wet my fingers. Marcus sat beside me on the steps, his gaze fixed on the freshly repaired porch. He was talking about the repairs, something about wood types and durability, but my mind was elsewhere.
"Marcus," I said, feeling a knot form in my stomach. The urge to spill everything bubbled up inside me, but as he turned his full attention to me, those words tangled up in my throat. His blue eyes met mine, steady and sure, and all I could manage was a soft, "I just wanted to say thank you—for everything."
He paused, studying me, his brow furrowing slightly. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice gentle and calm.
"Yeah, just a lot on my mind," I replied, trying to muster a convincing smile. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.
"Well, if you ever want to talk, I'm here," he assured me, placing a hand lightly on my shoulder. That simple touch sent warmth spreading through me, making my heart thump a little harder.
"Thanks," I murmured, grateful for his understanding.
Marcus turned to me with a thoughtful look. "I was thinking, how about we try something different tonight?" he proposed, his voice low and inviting.
"Different?" I echoed, feeling a flutter of anticipation twist in my stomach. My mind raced with possibilities as I recalled the contract we had created together—the boundaries, the trust we'd been cultivating like a fragile plant in need of care.
"Yeah," he nodded, leaning back on his elbows, eyes fixed on me. "Is there anything you've been curious about or wanting to explore?"
His question hung in the air between us, heavy with promise and potential. I bit my lip, considering. The idea of pushing our limits both thrilled and terrified me. But wasn't that what this was all about? Trusting him. Trusting myself.
"I want to push our limits," I said, my voice stronger than I'd expected. "Work on building more trust between us."
Marcus raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. His approval wrapped around me like a warm blanket. "I'm open to that," he said, sitting up straighter. "I have the perfect thing in mind."
My curiosity piqued, I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"
He chuckled softly, a sound that made my heart skip. "You'll see," he replied cryptically. And just like that, the evening held untold possibilities—an adventure waiting to unfold, one step at a time.
***
Today, the renovation work was actually quite nice. My toil had started to pay off—parts of the house were looking good. The spirit of the place, the comfy feel, was still there. But it just looked cleaner, more hopeful and positive. Overall, it was much nicer to spend time there.
I steamed off some wallpaper in the lounge, attacking what was left with a sharp scraper Marcus had given me.
After he’d fixed the porch, he went back to the hardware store for a while, popping back with sandwiches for us at lunchtime, and the occasional cup of coffee.
All day long though, I waited with baited breath for the evening.
Finally, after the work was done and we’d shared a simple dinner of pasta with marinara sauce—as well as a couple of glasses of tasty red wine—it felt like something was going to happen.
My heart pounded in my chest as Marcus led me into the familiar comfort of his bedroom. The room felt different tonight, charged with an electric anticipation. I stood there, vulnerable and exposed, waiting for him to guide this new step in our journey.
"Ready?" he asked softly, holding a black silk blindfold in his hands. His voice was gentle, reassuring, a steady anchor in the swirling sea of my emotions.
"Yeah," I breathed, nodding, my voice barely above a whisper. I had agreed to this, to pushing our limits, to exploring the depths of trust we were building together. With trembling fingers, I brushed my hair back, giving him access to tie the fabric over my eyes.
Darkness enveloped me, heightening my other senses. I could hear the faint rustle of his shirt as he moved closer, feel the warmth radiating from his body. My skin prickled in anticipation.
"Remember," Marcus murmured, his lips close to my ear, "You can stop this anytime. You're in control. Don’t forget your safeword."
“Got it. Home, right?”
“That’s it, Little One.”
"Okay," I replied, my voice steadier now. The reassurance settled over me like a calming tide. I trusted him completely. “I’m ready.”
With careful hands, he guided me to the bed, laying me down gently before securing my wrists with soft leather cuffs. Each touch was deliberate, a silent question that awaited my consent. I nodded at each pause, signaling him to continue.
"You're doing great," he whispered, his breath warm against my cheek. His words wrapped around me like a comforting embrace, soothing my nerves.
The restraints heightened every sensation—the softness of the sheets beneath me, the cool air against my skin, the heat pooling low in my belly. I was aware of everything, acutely so.
"Now for something new," Marcus said, his tone playful yet serious. I heard the soft click of a clasp, followed by a slight pressure on my nipples. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as the clamps bit gently into my flesh, a mix of pleasure and pain sparking through me.
"How does that feel?" he asked, his voice laced with concern and curiosity.
"Intense," I admitted, my breaths coming quicker. The sensation was unlike anything I'd experienced—sharp and sweet all at once, a tugging reminder of my vulnerability.
"Good." His approval made my heart swell, a shared victory in this exploration.
Marcus continued, introducing new implements with the same careful precision. He traced a flogger lightly over my skin, sending shivers down my spine. The soft strands tickled and teased, a gentle contrast to the sharp bite of the clamps.
Next came the crop, its leather tip leaving stinging trails across my skin. I whimpered as he struck me again and again, each blow igniting a fire within me.
But even as I reveled in the sensations, I never forgot my safeword. Marcus had given me permission to explore my limits, but also reminded me that I was always in control.
He switched between implements, building up the intensity until I was trembling beneath him.
Each one added a layer to the symphony of sensations playing across my body, each note more thrilling, more daring than the last. He watched for my reactions, adjusting and teasing, drawing out moans I couldn't suppress.
His touch was both demanding and tender, a paradox that left me craving more even as it pushed me to my limits. I floated on the edge of bliss and surrender, carried by the rhythm of our hearts, the harmony of our trust.
His breath was warm against my skin as he moved lower, a teasing promise of what was to come. My heart raced, each beat echoing in the silence that enveloped us. The blindfold heightened everything—the brush of his fingertips, the anticipation thrumming through me like a live wire.
"Are you ready?" His voice was a soft rumble, grounding me even as it sent shivers down my spine.
"Yes," I whispered, my throat tight with longing and trust. Trust in him, in this moment we were creating together.
He didn't hesitate. His mouth was on me, a deft exploration that left me gasping. Each stroke of his tongue was deliberate, an unspoken conversation between us. I arched into him, the restraints holding me enough to remind me of my vulnerability, yet oddly freeing.
"More," I breathed, barely recognizing my own voice—husky, edged with need.
Marcus obliged, his movements precise, coaxing reactions from me with an expertise that bordered on worship. Every nerve ending seemed to come alive under his ministrations, a symphony of sensations that blurred the lines between pleasure and surrender.
"Lucy," he murmured against me, the sound vibrating through my core. It was more than a name; it was an anchor, a lifeline pulling me back when the intensity threatened to sweep me away.
"Don't stop," I pleaded, lost to the rhythm he set, the world narrowing to the heat pooling low in my belly and the intoxicating pull of his attention.
"Never," he promised, his dedication unfaltering. In his care, my doubts began to unravel, replaced by a certainty that had been elusive until now.
I could feel the tension coiling tighter, a crescendo building within me. Marcus sensed it too, his touch unwavering, guiding me toward the edge with a patience that spoke volumes.
"Let go," he urged softly, a coaxing whisper that broke through the haze.
And I did. I surrendered to him, to us, to the trust that had taken root amidst the vulnerability. It was a release unlike any other, profound in its simplicity, powerful in its truth.
As I lay there, spent and trembling, Marcus held me close, his presence a balm to the storm he'd stirred within me. In the aftermath, I realized something had shifted—a newfound confidence nestled beside the remnants of doubt. This was our beginning, and I was ready to embrace whatever came next.