I’m panting. Need builds inside me. I’m touching myself, except I’m not. He is. He’s controlling everything.
My eyes roll back when he presses my fingertips against my clit. I whimper. In less than a minute, I’ve gone from giggling to the edge of ecstasy. “Please, Daddy…”
He releases my hand. “Reach inside your pussy, Little one. Two fingers.”
I’m trembling as I obey him. I need this. Not just the orgasm that hovers just out of reach, but I need to follow his commands. I need to see the smoldering look in his eyes when I do as I’m told. I need to watch him lick his lips and draw in ragged breaths because he’s so affected by me.
He’s a drug. I’ll never get enough. I’m worried I’m growing addicted and I’ll start shaking if I don’t get my regular fix.
My mouth falls open, and I shock myself when I realize the deep, mewling sound filling my ears is coming from me. I push my fingers in as deeply as I can and instinctively curl them so they drag over the top of my channel.
“That’s my girl. Press your palm into your clit while you fuck your pretty pussy.”
I do as I’m told. Our connection is heady and intense. I feel it deepening by the second. Something is happening between us. There’s an energy that’s begging for release. Electricity hums in the air. Sparks. I’m going to come, and I’ll never be the same afterward.
“Such a good girl. Come for me, June. Make yourself come apart.”
I thrust in and out, deeper and deeper, grinding my palm against my swollen clit. Until I finally crash over the edge, gasping, nearly hyperventilating. I can’t catch my breath as my orgasm consumes me.
When my skin becomes too sensitive, I let my hand fall away from my pussy, lying limp and sated, breathing heavily. My ears are ringing.
And Daddy is kissing me again, all over my torso and down my inner thighs.
All I can do is smile and thank my lucky stars that I met him.
Nineteen
June
* * *
My nerves wreak havoc as I sit at the kitchen table the next morning. I can’t sit still. I keep swinging my legs. My bare feet don’t reach the floor because Daddy has added a booster seat to my chair. I’m strapped into it as if I might fall without the restraints.
Simone is coming over. Daddy calls it a playdate. I call it the most stressful hour of my life waiting for her to arrive.
I’ve never done anything like this before. In a matter of days, I’ve morphed into someone I don’t recognize. I’m constantly out of body. I’m not the same person.
It’s not a bad thing. It’s just weird. I think I was just living for thirty years. Now I’m finally alive. The world is brighter around me. Sharper. More colorful. But also scarier.
Age play makes me feel extremely vulnerable. It’s one thing to enjoy Little space—as Daddy calls it—alone with him. It’s an entirely different thing altogether to invite someone else into my world and share it with them.
It doesn’t matter that Daddy assures me Simone will not judge me. He promised me she will arrive dressed similarly because he made sure with Professor Arnalt when he invited them over.
No matter how many ways Daddy has tried to distract me this morning, I’m a hot mess of anxiety.
He fed me, got me dressed, fixed my hair in two braids, and then settled me in this seat to color—an attempt to distract me and keep my mind occupied.
I have a coloring book open in front of me. Crayons, too. But I can’t color with my left hand. It would look like a toddler did it. Daddy says it doesn’t matter if I color inside the lines. There’s no reason to feel so constricted. I just need to enjoy myself. But that’s not something I’m good at.
I haven’t colored since I was very young, and I’m a perfectionist, so the idea of letting myself make mistakes doesn’t sit well. He must sense my hesitation because he doesn’t pressure me.
I jump when Daddy’s phone rings. I know that ringtone by now. It’s solely for Mr. Brinkman in the lobby, which means Simone has arrived.
I’m not sure what makes me more nervous—the thought of spending time with someone else who identifies as Little, or the reminder that ten years ago, I took classes with Professor Arnalt.
If I had known I was Little back then, would I have recognized he was a Daddy? I doubt it. He was always so professional. I know Simone was also one of his students. I’m curious about their story. How did she end up being his Little? I can’t imagine him breaking the rules and sneaking around dating a student. But what do I know? People do odd things when they’re in lust. Obviously, since I’ve clearly lost a few marbles in the past forty-eight hours.
Simone is much younger than I am. I assume she’s about twenty-two since she just graduated from college. But if she’s been in this lifestyle for a while, she’s far more knowledgeable, making me feel like an infant. The pun isn’t lost on me.
