Amelia
Dinner is awkward. There’s no other way to describe it. The hour I spent mostly alone cooking went better than expected though. Foster came in to check on me every fifteen minutes or so but he didn’t hover, nor did he Daddy me while I was working. I appreciated that and intend to tell him so later.
But now it’s time to eat, and I’ve been summarily put back into my Little space. It took Foster about ten seconds to adjust my mindset. As soon as I told him dinner was ready, he came to me, cupped my face with both hands, and met my gaze.
I stared at him nervously, feeling myself assume a much younger persona even before he spoke. He has a way with his gaze. “Go wash your hands for dinner, sweet girl. I’ll finish getting everything on the table.”
I knew immediately I was no longer permitted to be in my adult space. “Yes, Sir.”
Now we’re all at the table. Craig has pushed Leah up to her spot, and Foster does the same for me across from Leah.
I reach for the serving spoon, but Foster wraps his larger hand around mine and draws it back. “Let Daddy fix your plate.”
My heart races every time he refers to himself as Daddy. He hasn’t done it many times yet, but when he does, something inside me flip flops. I can’t decide if my reaction is positive or negative yet. It’s so intense, but I find myself gripping my thighs together under the table, so that should be a clue.
I try to relax as Foster fills my plate at the same time Craig fills Leah’s. Finally, the men sit, but Foster pulls my plate closer to him and uses his knife and fork to cut up my meatballs. After that, he cuts my spaghetti until all the noodles are an inch long.
I don’t giggle, but it’s hard not to.
When he sets my plate back in front of me, he says, “Be careful. It’s still hot.”
The only reason I’m not mortified is that Craig has done the same to Leah. He goes one step further actually, telling her to use both hands when she lifts her plastic cup of milk.
I’ve been here three full days, and I’ve eaten several meals with Craig and Leah, but they’ve been holding back apparently. Craig has never gone so full-force Daddy on Leah while I’ve been around. Now I’m thinking they were being cautiously polite around me.
Somehow, I missed the part where one of the men must have swapped out the two glasses meant for me and Leah for plastic ones. I also missed the part where they poured our milk.
As I pick up my fork and lean forward, I feel extremely Little. I squeeze my thighs together tighter, tipping my legs under the chair. Only my toes reach the floor.
My dress is not completely under my butt, but Foster didn’t give me a chance to adjust it, and I’m afraid if I do so, he’ll give me a reprimanding look that will draw attention to my plight.
I’ve done my best to ignore the fact that I cooked dinner without a bra, but when I glance down, reminding myself this is a white dress at a spaghetti meal, I see my nipples prominently pointing out.
I suck in a breath and try to adjust the front of my dress discreetly, pulling the material away from my breasts. The white cotton is so thin everyone can not only see how hard my nipples are but the darkened shade of my areolas.
Foster reaches over with one hand and wraps it around my wrist. “Stop fidgeting. Your dress is fine. No one is worried about your nipples, sweet girl. And spread your knees. Wrap your feet around the legs of the chair.”
Heat races up my face and down my chest. My hand is shaking, so I set my fork down. I haven’t even taken a bite yet. I’ll probably drop spaghetti sauce down the front of my dress with my luck. Something that wouldn’t happen in a million years if my dress were black. But since it’s white…
I risk a glance at Leah as I part my knees. My panties were damp, but now they are officially soaked. I’m unnerved that I get so aroused every time Foster issues a demand. Somehow the fact that there are witnesses increases my response exponentially.
Leah has taken a bite. She’s not looking at me. In fact, she’s leaning back in her seat so Craig can tuck a napkin in the front of her shirt.
I glance at Foster. A napkin would keep my dress from getting sauce on it, but it would also cover my nipples.
Foster winks at me before standing to head across the room.
I hold my breath until he returns, wondering what on earth he has up his sleeve now. It’s a dishtowel, and he stands behind me tucking it down the front of my dress before returning to his chair. “Eat, sweet girl. You haven’t had anything since lunch.”
He’s right. We grabbed sandwiches while we were in town. That was a long time ago. I would be starving, if I weren’t filled with butterflies.
“This is delicious as usual, Amy,” Craig says.
“Thank you, Sir.” Am I supposed to call him Sir? I assume so.
“You’re an amazing cook,” Leah agrees. I know she’s swinging her legs under the table because her entire body is swaying rhythmically.
Craig gives one of her braids a tug. “Sit still, sweetheart.”
“Yes, Sir.” She stops moving as she takes another bite, but I almost giggle when her legs start swinging again a moment later.
If she’s feeling even half the nervous energy I’m feeling, I’m not surprised she’s wiggling around. I’d be swinging my legs too if my feet weren’t wrapped around the legs of my chair.
“Did you make this salad dressing, Amelia?” Foster asks.
“Yes, Sir.”
“It’s delicious.” He takes another bite of tomato.
“Thank you, Sir.” I reach for my milk and drink about half of it, hoping it will help me relax so I can actually take a bite of real food.
When Craig and Foster begin to discuss the repairs on the fence they went to see earlier, I finally manage to eat some of my spaghetti. This is one of my favorite meals, so I find my appetite as soon as the flavors hit my tongue. One thing is for sure; I don’t have to worry about slurping up long noodles.
I eat everything on my plate and decline Foster’s offer to get me more. As soon as everyone is finished, I look toward Foster. “May I serve dessert?”
He sets his large hand on my head and strokes it down one of my pigtails. “I’ll do it, sweet girl. Where is it?”
“In the fridge.”
He pushes back from the table and reaches for all four plates before carrying them to the sink and returning with the tray of chocolate mousse I made.
“I’m going to have to work out more now that Amelia has joined us,” Foster declares.
I giggle as he passes everyone a glass parfait dish of mousse and dig in to my favorite dessert as soon as he hands me a spoon. I’ve intentionally cooked my favorite things tonight because I knew I would be nervous. Plus, I can make these dishes without needing to think, and I was particularly worried I would distractedly fuck up dinner by leaving out a key ingredient if I weren’t careful.
Foster moans around each bite. “My girl likes chocolate.” He shoots me a grin. “Hot chocolate last night, chocolate mousse tonight. And then there were the chocolate-covered marshmallows you picked out on the puzzle earlier.”
“Who doesn’t like chocolate?” I challenge.
“You had hot cocoa last night?” Leah inquires. She looks toward Craig. “Foster lets her have hot cocoa at night. Why can’t I?”
“Would you like me to rattle off a list of reasons?” Craig asks.
Her shoulders slump. “No, Sir.”
“Hmm. I think I will anyway. What happened last time you had hot chocolate before bed?”
“I couldn’t fall asleep,” she murmurs as she continues eating her mousse.
“And then what?”
“I had to go potty two times before I fell asleep.”
“And then what?” he continues.
“My tummy hurt.”
“So why would we repeat that performance?”
She sighs. “Maybe I could have some earlier in the day sometimes?”
“That we can arrange,” he agrees.
Their interaction fascinates me. I’ve seen them together many times, including at Surrender. The problem with seeing Littles and Daddies at the club is that it’s hard to know how much is contrived for that evening and how much is the way they interact all the time.
Now I’m wondering if this is their normal power exchange or if they’re exaggerating it for me. Or hell, they could also be dumbing it down for me.
When we’re all done, Craig strokes Leah’s hair again. “Take your dishes to the sink and then head upstairs. It’s getting late. Bath time, story time, bedtime.”
“Yes, Sir.” She looks exasperated as she drags herself to standing and picks up her dishes.
I glance at Foster. “Sounds about right. Want to help me load the dishwasher first, Amelia?”
Do I want to do the job I get paid for? “Yes, Sir.”
Leah gives me a hug as soon as I’m standing. “Lucy and Eve will be here by lunch tomorrow. I can’t wait for them to get here.” She lowers her voice to a silly whisper as if she’s hiding her next words when clearly everyone can hear her. “Maybe I can talk Daddy into letting us have a movie night in the theater.”
“That’d be fun,” I whisper back.
“Stop stalling, sweetheart,” Craig reprimands.
“Yes, Sir.” Leah gives me another hug and skips from the room, Craig following her.
“Let’s get the dishwasher started, sweet girl.”
I help him load the dishes. Or rather he helps me. The lines are blurred and confusing. This is my kitchen. He’s not supposed to work in it. He’s supposed to take care of the grounds.
I’m not sure how I feel about him getting in my way in the kitchen. I don’t say anything though. I’ll see how I feel in the morning. I can’t have him hovering while I do my job. It will make me crazy.
When we finally leave the kitchen, Foster locks the back door and takes my hand. It’s chilly now that it’s dark. Goosebumps rise on my arms.
I tug on Foster’s hand when we reach my cabin. “I should grab some things if I’m going to stay with you again.”
“You won’t need anything, sweet girl. I’ve got it all covered.”
“Oh.” I look up at him and narrow my gaze. “You’re not planning on carrying me back here in the morning to get dressed again, are you?”
He chuckles. “Nope. I bought more than just this one dress when I was shopping earlier.” He bends down and lifts me up, settling me on his hip to carry me the rest of the way to his cabin.
I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tight as he rubs my biceps. “Are you cold, sweet girl?”
“A little,” I admit.
“Let’s get you in a warm bath then, yeah?”
I set my head on his shoulder and relax. I’m calmer now that I’ve survived dinner and we’re alone. It’s easier to submit to him when no one is watching. Maybe I’ll get better at it in the next few days.
He keeps me on his hip as he opens the door to let us in, shuts it, and locks it. There’s a lamp on in the middle of the room, giving us enough light to make our way through to the bedroom and into the bathroom.
Foster stands me on my feet and leans over to turn on the water, waiting for it to heat up before he puts the stopper in the bottom of the tub.
I grab his shoulders as he bends down to take off my sandals, and when he removes my dress and then my panties, I don’t feel as unnerved tonight. I’m getting used to him taking care of me, seeing me naked, touching me.
I squeal when he lifts me to set me in the water. “I could have climbed in myself,” I inform him.
He chuckles. “Sit on your bottom, sweet girl. Before you fall.” He keeps his hands on me as if I might slip in the tub if he lets go.
As the water continues to rise, he opens the vanity and pulls out a bucket of toys.
I giggle as he dumps them into the water. As they bob around, I lift my gaze to his as a question comes to mind. “Exactly how old do you expect me to be, Sir?” This disconnect between us is bothering me.
He pulls the ribbons out of my pigtails as he responds. “That’s up to you, sweet girl. I’ll introduce all kinds of things to you and see what appeals to you. Some Littles are older. Some are younger.”
“What age do you prefer though?” I ask. I know my eyes are wide.
He taps my nose as he sits on the edge of the toilet. “I don’t have a huge preference. As long as you’re happy.”
“What if I’m more like a teenager?” I drag my fingers through the water, staring at the toys. Part of me wants to pick up the little boat and steer it around the tub. Part of me thinks that’s silly. I’m a grown adult.
“Mmm. First of all, I don’t think you’re that old, so it’s probably a moot point, but since you’re asking, that wouldn’t be my preference. I’d rather you be a younger age filled with more innocence and naivete.”
I glance at him again, another question burning a hole in my mind. “But not a baby, right?”
“I don’t have any experience with Littles who find themselves preferring to go quite that young. I suppose I could try it if you wanted to experiment though.”
I shake my head. “No. That doesn’t appeal to me.” Anything that young seems far too needy.
“Don’t pigeonhole yourself. Just go with the flow. We’ll figure it out.”
As he picks up a cup and tips my head back to dump water over my hair, I reach tentatively for the little boat.
Foster doesn’t say a word as I guide it through the water while he shampoos my hair. It feels so good having someone massage my scalp that I close my eyes and enjoy the moment.
“Can you lean back so Daddy can rinse your hair, sweet girl?”
I slide forward a bit and rely on his firm hand at the back of my neck to keep me from falling as he lowers me into the water. The tub is still filling, but it’s high enough to easily rinse my hair. When he sits me back up, he puts conditioner in and then grabs a washcloth and pours baby wash onto it.
I release the boat and reach for the mermaid next. Her hair is long and blue. Her clothes are painted on, a colorful dress in blues and purples. “What’s her name?” I ask as Foster washes first one arm and then the other.
“I don’t know. You need to name her.”
“Mmm. I think Veronica.”
“Veronica it is then.” He moves to my feet and up my legs.
I run my fingers through Veronica’s wet hair as Foster washes my back and then my tummy. When his hand smooths up over my breasts, my breath hitches. I’ve been trying to ignore my arousal this entire time, but he spends a bit longer than necessary stroking the cloth over my nipples.
I’m breathing heavily when he switches to the last part of me that hasn’t been washed—my pussy. He parts my legs and flattens the cloth right over my folds until I moan. I can’t stop it. It just comes out of my mouth.
“My sweet girl likes bath time.” He kisses my forehead as he sets the cloth aside and grabs the cup to rinse my hair.
I’m trembling again. That happens a lot around him. He has a way of making me very horny quite often. I release Veronica and grip the sides of the tub so hard my fingers turn white.
“There,” he declares as he reaches for the plug to let the water out. He hands me the bucket next. “Toys back in the bucket, Amelia.”
I pick them up and put them inside as the water swishes down the drain and then Foster sets the bucket on the counter, stands, and lifts me from the tub to set me on my feet.
I love the way he takes care of me. It’s new and odd and kinda strange to have someone wash me and dry me. Cut up my food and tuck a towel in my shirt. Carry me and hold me. It’s new but it’s nice. I could get used to being treated like a princess. At least I think I could.
Am I going too far though? In my head, I’m not nearly as young as Foster treats me. Or am I kidding myself? Maybe I’m just afraid to admit I enjoy this younger age. It’s frustrating.
After patting my body dry, he grabs the blow dryer and gets to work on my hair like he did earlier. It’s not as embarrassing as the first time. Or maybe it’s just not as shocking to stand naked in front of him while he works on my hair. I find myself just as aroused as I did the first time. Perhaps more.
When he’s done, he combs out my hair and leads me to the bedroom where he heads for a dresser. The dresser is very tall and he opens the top drawer to pull out a pink nightie.
When he holds it up for me to see, I giggle. It’s cotton with a ruffle at the shoulders and hem. There’s a teddy bear on the front.
“I assume you like teddy bears,” he says as he lifts it over my head.
“Yes, Sir.” I glance down as it falls into place. It fits me perfectly. It’s exactly the kind of nightgown a small child would wear but in my size. I love it.
“Are you too tired or do you want me to read you a story before bed?”
“A story please.” I slide my hands down the nightgown, noting it barely covers my butt. “Can I have panties, Sir?”
“Nope. I like your bottom available.” He winks at me, making me wonder if he wants it available to spank or to fondle? Either way makes me shiver.
“It feels weird,” I tell him as I follow him to the living room.
“It’s not much different than those thongs you wear,” he teases.
“Yeah, it is. The thongs have elastic I can feel and a triangle that covers my, uh…”
“Pussy?” he supplies, making me blush.
It’s not that I can’t say or think the word pussy, but it doesn’t flow out freely while I’m in this interesting Little space.
He grabs a book off the shelves next to the television, swings me up into his arms, and settles on the recliner with me sitting on his lap.
My bare butt is on his thigh. His jeans are rubbing against my sensitive skin. I lift up to tug the nightie under my cheeks.
“Is your bottom still tender, sweet girl?”
“A little.”
“I’ll put some more lotion on it after your story, okay?”
I lean my head against his shoulder so he can’t see how flushed my face is at the mention of him once again rubbing ointment into my bottom.
Foster shows me the front of the book before opening it. It’s a chapter book about the adventures of a grizzly bear. “What do you think? Does this look good?” he asks. “I figured some nights we can read this one and other nights the one you brought.”
I nod. “Yes, Sir.” I settle in against him and hug him close while he reads to me. My God, it’s so nice. I can close my eyes and listen to his rumbling voice. I could sit on his lap for days and let him snuggle me and read to me. There are some obvious merits to being a Little.
I’m getting into the story when he closes the book and sets it on the end table. “That’s enough for tonight. You need to get to sleep.”
I tip my head back. “I’m not tired yet,” I say as I yawn.
He chuckles. “Is that so?” He stands, cradling me against him as he carries me to the bedroom. After dropping me with a bounce onto the bed, he reaches for the tube of cream again. “Roll over onto your tummy, Amelia.”
I do as I’m told, squeezing my thighs together. It’s impossible not to. Something about the tone of his orders races to my pussy every time. Even something as simple as demanding I roll over makes me wet. I bite my lip to keep from moaning.
Foster pats the backs of my thighs. “I’m not fond of Little girls pressing their knees together. Open for me.”
I hold my breath as I part my legs a few inches. If he touches my pussy, he will find out I’m very wet. Is it weird for me to get so aroused from his commands? He’s only said two things. Roll over and open for me. Why on earth would I get horny from that?
Foster tucks a pillow between my knees like he did earlier. It causes me to stop holding my breath and let out a gasp. Without comment, he pushes my nightie high up my back and smooths the lotion into my bottom and thighs again, massaging me so sweetly.
“You’re still a bit pink and there are some faint bruises. Your skin is kind of fair, sweet girl.”
“I like the bruises, Sir,” I whisper. I’m not kidding. “Can I see them?”
“Yep. Don’t move.” He puts the tube back on the nightstand and shuffles from the room.
I can’t imagine what he’s doing. Getting a mirror? Surely he doesn’t have a mirror in the living room or kitchen.
When he returns, I rise onto my elbows and turn my head to face him. He’s got his phone.
“May I take a picture?” he asks. “I swear I won’t show it to a soul. It will just be for you.”
I chew on my bottom lip as I ponder his suggestion. “Okay, but only get my butt and nothing else.” This way if it ever got seen by someone, they wouldn’t know it was me.
“Perfect.” He leans over me, takes the shot, and then holds the phone up so I can see it.
I roll onto my side and take his cell from him. I haven’t had a chance to look at his marks all day. He’s been with me nearly every moment since he put them there. I smile. “I love it.”
He grins back. “Next time I’ll take a picture right after I’m done if you’d like.”
“Thank you, Sir.” I hand him back his phone and wiggle to tug my nightie over my pussy. The pillow is still between my legs, but I pull it out and slide under the covers.
Foster takes the pillow and sets it next to his. “Scootch up here, sweet girl. I need to shower and take care of a few things before I come to bed, but I want you right here where I can reach you.”
I slide into the spot he’s created, giggling because it’s much closer to his side of the bed than mine. “There won’t be enough room for you,” I point out.
He pats the bed next to me. “Plenty of room. This bed is way too large. I like you snuggled against me. I don’t want to haul you over here from another zip code.”
I giggle again. “Silly Daddy.”
We both catch my word at the same time. My breath hitches. His smile grows. He sets his hands on the mattress and leans over me. “Say that again.”
Heat rises on my cheeks. “Silly?” I tease.
He tugs the covers down my body and tickles my tummy, making me squirm all over the place.
“Daddy…” I cry out.
He stops torturing me, sets his hands on both sides of my waist, and meets my gaze. “I like the sound of that.”
I stare at him, praying I’m not giving him false hope. I’m having fun, but it’s been one day. I can’t be sure I can do this forever. Forever is a long time. What if I wake up tomorrow and want to be big?
“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I won’t read too much into it, but I’m looking forward to the day you call me Daddy instead of Sir all the time.” He leans closer and kisses me gently, humming against my lips. “Go to sleep,” he whispers before pulling away. “I’ll set the alarm for in the morning. I think you’ll like my idea of a snooze button much better than yours,” he teases.
I smile. I’m wet again. The promise of his fingers or his mouth on me, in me… He makes my tummy flutter.
He kisses me again and helps me get back onto my pillow and under the covers. “Sleep, Amelia.”
I can’t imagine how I could possibly sleep. Too many things are running through my mind. I’m excited and nervous and aroused and anxious and a dozen other emotions. It takes me a while to close my eyes, but eventually, I do, and it’s the last thing I remember.