Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Seraphina
My eyes felt swollen, my head heavy. Crying myself to sleep wasn’t a new trick, but Mistress V's words had cut deep and I needed an escape. Not to mention her calling me a Little earlier. The rejection, the embarrassment, the confirmation of every fear I carried—it all sat like a stone in my chest.
I shuffled into the kitchenette, clutching my stuffy in one hand like it could shield me from the world.
A mug of chai tea warmed my palms when I curled back onto the couch, fleece blanket pulled to my chin.
The t-shirt, shorts, and striped socks I’d slept in felt like armor.
They were fleece and felt soft against my skin.
A knock jolted me upright.
Mistress V. It had to be. I hadn't had any visitors at all since I'd been here and now my doormat had more trips than I dared count.
I opened the door and we both froze. Her eyes, tired but focused, swept over me.
I knew I must look ridiculous—pigtails slightly crooked, stuffy still clutched, eyes red.
Though I had no idea who she truly was, something in me still yearned for her to make all of this right.
Sure, I was physically attracted to the beautiful African American goddess standing in front of me.
However, I couldn’t dare to daydream about someone who had been so careless with her responsibilities.
“I came to apologize, again.” she said softly. “I shouldn't have assumed. That’s on me.”
I opened my mouth, but the words tangled in my throat.
Mistress V lifted a slim paperback and held it out between us. The cover was whimsical, pastel-colored. The Playful Guide to Littles & Middles. My breath caught.
“I think this might help,” she said. “It explains things better than I probably can right now. At the end, there’s a questionnaire. Do it. When you’re done… text me. I’ll come back. We can talk. Maybe over dinner.”
I raised a skeptical brow. “Dinner?”
Her mouth tugged into the faintest smile. “Nothing fancy. Just… sandwiches, snacks, dessert. A picnic. I’ll bring everything we need. If nothing else, it’ll make you laugh. Plus, eating is necessary, yeah?”
I hated how the corner of my lips twitched, betraying me. I swallowed hard, hugging my stuffy closer. “Fine. But I’m not promising anything.”
“Fair enough.” She didn’t push. She just placed the book in my hands, gave a small nod, and stepped back into the hall. No lecture. No smugness. Just space.
After she left, I curled beneath my blanket, I cracked the book open.
At first, it felt like a silly thing to read—cartoon doodles, lighthearted examples, metaphors about “big shoes” and “small hearts.” But the more I read, the more it pressed against my ribs.
It felt familiar as if this book was specifically about me.
It discussed the highs and lows of discovering who you are.
Shame, guilt, anger… but also joy, gratefulness, and pride.
Littles thrive when their inner playfulness is honored. A caregiver’s job is not to control, but to protect and nurture. Discipline, when used, is rooted in love and guidance, never shame.
My throat burned. I thought of my parents, forever pointing out how much more Josephina sparkled. I thought of Mistress V’s sharp words yesterday, the way she’d dismissed Emerson’s struggles. I thought of how good it would feel if just once, someone looked at me and said, you’re enough.
At the back was a “Traffic Light Test”—a page full of boxes and prompts. I almost laughed. But there definitely was a stuffy already on my lap, a sign that maybe Mistress V was on to something. So I clicked a bright pink pen, flipped open my decorative notebook, and started.
Being read to at bedtime. – Green. My cheeks warmed. The soothing sensations of being cared for in that way resonated deep in my core. Having that perfect way to wind down at night seemed so silly, but I knew it had to be one of the best feelings.
Having my hair brushed, cuddles on the couch.
– Green. My chest ached. I sighed remembering loving this same thing growing up.
My mother would do it before bedtime and I’d always sleep so much better when she had time for this.
It was something I truly missed, a way to bond with her without words. No shame or expectations.
Being told “good girl”. – My breath hitched. Green. The shiniest of greens. They could probably see how excited I was from the moon.
I pulled my blanket tighter around me, seeking the comfort of it.
Though no one else was here, I felt exposed.
Vulnerable. So much so that I glanced around to make sure that I was truly by myself and there wasn’t someone lurking around.
These questions made my mind stir, my soul ache, and I couldn’t seem to shake the loneliness that had settled inside and hugged me from within.
Was it possible to have all these things?
Was it too silly to hope that I could find someone who could satisfy all of the desires that I tried to hide from the world?
Rules. Bedtimes. Chores. – Yellow. I wasn’t sure.
The word chore felt heavy and like weeks of doing somebody else’s laundry.
However, having someone else make the rules felt freeing.
I functioned better in life when I didn’t have to make big decisions.
Sure, at work it was fine, but at home, I wanted that option far removed.
Scolding or being denied sweets. – Yellow. The idea made me squirm. Why would we ever take away one of the sweetest joys of life? Desserts.
Being in trouble and having Mistress V correct me wasn’t a bad thought. Perhaps she might even spank…
I stopped that thought right there, cleared my throat, and tried to calm the desire racing through me. Correction came from people who cared and paid attention. A new ache settled between my thighs and I pressed my legs together to try to calm the burning need trying to consume me.
Her hands massaging the sensitized skin afterward… I wonder if she would kiss it all better.
I jumped up and stumped my foot. “No, no, no, no. No!” I shook my head at myself. Mistress V still needed to prove that she was worthy of whatever parts of myself that I shared. Yes, this book was a step in the right direction, but how long would it last? I sighed.
Exploration of yourself isn’t for everybody else. It’s for me. This quiz is so that I can get to know myself. That’s what it said in the directions.
Gingerly, I climbed back in bed to continue working down the list.
Humiliation. Harsh punishments. Being ignored. – Red. Sharp, immediate. Why would anybody ever want to be ignored?
Stuffies, coloring, cartoons, playful games. – Green. I chewed my lip, embarrassed at how much I wanted those things. This was my safe space. A place to unwind and tune out the worries of the real world. Sign me up three times please.
Hand-holding in public, guidance through a crowd. – Green. That one made me ache in a way I didn’t expect. More care. For someone to see the obstacles and to be able to guide me through them so I didn’t get lost or tussled around. Yes, please!
Being put in time-out or told to take a nap. – Yellow. Weirdly appealing and annoying at the same time. Would there also be a bedtime story?
Calling someone “Daddy” or “Mommy”. – Yellow. The word Daddy alone made my cheeks flame. Did that make me ridiculous? Mommy on the other hand felt totally wrong. No, thanks. But how could one be a female and a Daddy?
Being tucked into bed, checked on at night. – Green. Tears prickled. I wanted that so badly it hurt. Give me all the bedtime things. Maybe even firm cuddles too.
Being punished physically (like spanking). – Yellow. A shiver ran through me. I didn’t know if it was good or bad. Spanking was green, but what else was considered punishment? I need more information on this one.
Having someone pick out my clothes or meals. – Yellow. I needed choices in some things. I loved the idea of having my clothes picked out for the day, but I didn’t want someone shopping for me and changing my style.
By the time I’d finished the rest of the page, my pen trembled in my hand.
The pattern was undeniable. My heart thudded against my ribs.
I wanted the very things I was most afraid to admit.
Yet, this quiz had made me focus on what it was asking instead of the entire picture.
One question at a time had me interested in entertaining the conversation with Mistress V.
I closed the book and hugged it to my chest, tears stinging again.
Maybe Mistress V was right about one thing—maybe I needed to face myself.
But could I trust her to face me? Dinner on the floor with sandwiches and snacks sounded childish.
And wonderful. And dangerous. Like I was letting her into my bubble.
When I looked back over the page, my stomach twisted.
There were so many greens. Too many. The yellows are almost greens, but I felt like I needed more explanation on most of them.
What did that say about me? That Mistress V had been right to point it out so casually when she called me a Little, like she’d just seen through me in seconds? That I was childish, immature, needy?
I rocked a little as if it could hide the truth. But the ache was still there. The longing. The loneliness. Before I could lose my nerve, I grabbed my phone and opened a new message. My thumbs hovered for a long moment, trembling.
Me: I finished the book. When can you come back?
It didn’t take long for her to text back. The reply came faster than I expected. Almost as if she was anticipating it.
Her: I’m on my way.
That was it. No emojis, no softening, no small talk. Just efficient, commanding. Vasiah.
I told myself I didn’t care, that I’d only agreed to dinner because I wanted to prove her wrong—that I wasn’t some fragile Little girl who needed looking after. That this was just about setting boundaries, clearing the air, nothing more.