Niko
It’s been a week since I held my kitten in my arms, cradled her against my chest, rocked her. A very long week. But a good one filled with good things.
I ordered a bunch of material online to help Brea learn to read. I added several other workbooks to assess where the rest of her education is. It’s not as bad as I expected. She’s at about a fourth-grade level on most things. Reading is a bit behind, but she’s excited and determined.
I love that she’s willing to put her trust in me to help her achieve her goals. I haven’t breathed a word of her lack of education to a single person. I work with her when we’re alone for a few hours in the afternoon and the evening.
She’s unstoppable. She still doesn’t take breaks or just chill. It’s incomprehensible to her. But it’s on my list of goals.
I’ve backed off, forcing myself to keep my hands off her—mostly. Not entirely. I still touch her hair, hold her hand, set my fingers on the small of her back when we’re walking. But I don’t pick her up, hold her, or hug her.
She needs to find herself. She needs someone to care so much about her that she grows into whoever Brea is. Maybe she’ll be Little in the end. Maybe she won’t. I have to accept either outcome.
I sit next to her at meals, and I always serve her and get her a drink because some things are ingrained in me too deeply to deny. She doesn’t mind. But I never reprimand her—not in front of people or alone.
We’re…friends. It’s not a zone I’m familiar with, nor would I have chosen this for myself, but it was born out of necessity, and my Little kitten is thriving.
She smiles more. She’s more confident. She holds her head higher. And the best part is she’s always happy to see me. It warms my heart.
Sure, my cock is often hard and neglected, but it’s going to stay that way. On top of her having almost no socialization skills, I’d bet my last dime she has no experience with sex. Hell, I’d go so far as to wonder if anyone even talked to her about the birds and the bees.
I shudder to think she doesn’t know at least that much, but it wouldn’t shock me. Has anyone ever kissed her? Doubt it. Did her mother teach her anything about where those sixteen kids came from? Doubt that too.
I chuckle as a knock sounds at my door and cock my head to one side as I open it. “How many times have I told you to just walk in?”
She grins. “A dozen?”
“And?”
She shrugs as she steps inside. “I can’t do it.”
“If you ever tap into your Little side, you’re going to spend so much time in timeout with a sore bottom.” I gasp at my words as I shut the door and spin around to find her staring at me with wide eyes.
Her mouth has dropped open and her cheeks are pink.
“Fuck. I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“No. It’s okay. But can you tell me what you mean?”
I sigh and point toward the kitchen table where we work in the evenings. I’m sure Foster and Craig and both of their Little girls think we have a secret burgeoning relationship happening in my cabin. They couldn’t be more wrong, but my lips are sealed.
Brea slips onto the chair she occupies every night, but instead of opening the workbook, she sets her elbows on the table and leans her chin on her palms. She’s so damn cute. She also swings her feet because they don’t quite reach the floor.
If she were mine, I would get her a booster seat so the height of the table would be better for her. I’d lift her into it also. There are so many things I would do if Brea were mine. All I can do is hope it might come true one day.
I grab a pitcher of cold water from the fridge and pour us both a glass, avoiding her question.
When I set it down, she tips her head back to look up at me. “Answer my first question please, and then I have others.”
I wince inside. Oh boy. But I would never deny her anything. Not ever. I take a deep breath as I sit at the end of the table, trying not to laugh at how politely she just spoke to me. She doesn’t have an ounce of impoliteness in her body.
When I hesitate, she continues. “Tell me what Amy and Leah and all the Little guests do to get in trouble. Tell me why they like to be in trouble. Tell me why you treated me like I was your Little the first night we met and then never again. Do you not see me like that?” Her eyes are wide again. Curious little kitten.
“That’s a lot of questions. Let me see if I can remember them all.”
She leans forward expectantly, her gaze going to the glass of water. “Tell me why you always give me a glass to drink from. Craig and Foster give Leah and Amy sippy cups every time.”
“Because you’re not my Little, kitten.”
Her cheeks pinken further and she bites her lower lip. Have I hurt her feelings?
“Not because I don’t want you to be, Brea. I’d love for you to be mine in every way. But you’re so green. I backed off when I realized how new you are, not just to the lifestyle but in general. You deserve some time to learn about the world before someone slides in and puts you in a box.”
“A box?”
Damn, she’s precious. “I mean I don’t want to be presumptuous and assign you a personality that may or may not be authentic in the long run. If you were living in the city working at Stella’s or anyplace really, you wouldn’t even know about age play yet. It’s a small segment of the population.”
She lowers her gaze and stares at the table.
I reach over to stroke her cheek. “I don’t want to rush you, kitten.”
“What if I want to try it out?” she murmurs, lifting her wide eyes again.
“Then we’ll explore the possibility together. But not yet. You’re barely peeking out of your shell. Being Little is a huge adjustment.”
“Leah and Amy are so happy. The rest of our guests are too.”
“That’s true. But it’s not for everyone.”
I wince when her lip starts to tremble. “Did you change your mind about me?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Definitely not. Never. I ache to be your Daddy, kitten.”
She’s trembling now, and I can’t stand it. I need to hold her. I scoot my chair back and reach for her hand. “Come here, Little one.”
She slides off her chair and comes to me.
The moment I open my arms, she falls into me. She doesn’t wrap her arms around me, but she accepts my comfort. I rub her back and hold her close, inhaling the scent of her hair. It’s so soft and she smells so good.
After a bit, she tips her head back and looks at me. “Do you sometimes want to spank me like Foster does Amy?”
I chuckle. “Yes. Every day.” I won’t lie to her.
“Why?”
“It’s how I’m wired. A bona fide Daddy. I want to give you rules. I want you to follow them. I want to guide you and teach you.” I rub her back again. This is nerve-wracking. I didn’t mean to have this conversation with her yet, but she’s doing the asking. I won’t deny her the answers.
“And they like it? Amy and Leah and the others?” Her brow is furrowed.
“Yes, kitten. They love it. Sometimes they do naughty things because they crave the feeling of having their bottoms spanked. It’s cathartic. Not every Little enjoys that sort of thing, but a lot do. It’s part of the dynamic. Getting spanked helps Little girls purge themselves of whatever is stressing them.”
“A lot is stressing me,” she points out, her expression serious.
I fight back a groan. “I don’t think you’re ready to experience a spanking, kitten. Baby steps.”
“What things do I do that make you want to spank me? Like when I call you sir?”
I chuckle. “Yes. Especially when you call me sir. You’ve started doing it just to be naughty.” I lift a brow.
Her cheeks pinken again. “Hmm. I’ve never been naughty.”
“I figured. It feels kinda good, doesn’t it? Knowing you can push my buttons and I won’t get mad.”
“But you do get mad when I call you sir, right?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not at all. I’ll never get legitimately mad at you, kitten. It’s like a game. A way some people prefer to interact with each other. Like when Amy climbs up onto a chair to reach something up too high in the kitchen. She knows Foster forbids her to do that because it’s not safe. She does it anyway because she likes the way he reprimands her in front of everyone. Sometimes he spanks her. Sometimes he puts her in the timeout corner.”
“He really loves her,” Brea says.
“Yes, he does. People who live in an age play dynamic love deeply. It takes a great deal of negotiation and respect to create a dynamic that satisfies both partners.”
She lowers her gaze to my chest, leaning back enough to finger the front of my shirt. “Can I ask you something else?”
“You may ask me anything anytime, kitten. Always.”
Seconds tick by. I’m not sure why her next question is so difficult to ask, but I wait patiently.
“Do they uh… sleep together sometimes?” she whispers.
Ah. That. Damn. “Yes, kitten. They have sex. Probably more often than the rest of society to be honest.”
“Oh.” She fidgets. “They have their own rooms and their own beds and so…”
“Lots of Littles like to have a space where they can relax and be Little. Some of them sleep in that space. Others sleep in their Daddy’s bed. It depends on their arrangement. There are no rules. Each couple figures out what works best for them.”
She shudders. “I hate sleeping alone. Until I came here, I’ve never slept alone in my life.”
I cringe inside. “You shared with your siblings?”
“Yes. I shared a bed with two of my sisters. Not my brothers of course. My sisters and I shared a room, but we never had our own beds.”
“It must be lonely sleeping in that cabin by yourself then.” I will my cock to stay down. She’s so close and so sweet and all this talk about sex isn’t helping me control my libido. Now we’re discussing where she’d prefer to sleep? I’m close to my limit on what I can handle.
“Very.”
I tip her head back and rub my thumb under her eye. “No wonder there are dark circles under your eyes. You’re not getting enough sleep, are you?”
She shakes her head. “It’s too quiet and too still.”
Sometimes when I work with her in the afternoon, she yawns and gets sleepy. Now I understand the dark circles aren’t part of her normal self. They’re from lack of sleep. “Why don’t you take a nap during the day, kitten? You have plenty of time.”
She shrugs. “I’ve never napped. I would feel guilty. I need to be doing something.”
I tug her ponytail, tipping her head back. “You need to learn to relax, kitten. You work too hard. I know it’s what you’re used to, but you need to learn new habits.”
“I don’t know how,” she admits.
“Would you let me help?”
“You’re already helping me so much.”
“And I love helping you. It would be my honor if you’d let me do more.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
I draw in a deep breath. “It means letting me be your Daddy to a certain extent. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
She nods. “I want to try that please.”
“If we do this, I’ll want you to obey me and do what I say at all times. You need structure, kitten. Assigned times when you work and play and rest and study.”
How on earth did we end up in this place tonight? This was not in my plan. Math problems and reading were on the docket. Not negotiating a trial age-play arrangement.
Brea seems eager though. Excited even. Like she’s been holding back asking me to do this for her for a few days.
I stroke my hand up and down her back, my fingers tangling in her soft hair. I’m feeling very lucky. I need to rein in my exuberance and take things slowly. “I won’t be spanking you, kitten. So, don’t expect that.”
“Ever?” Her innocent eyes widen again.
“Not without discussing it and renegotiating another day. Not now.”
“What if I’m naughty?” she asks, the corners of her lips lifting up in a playful way I doubt she ever felt before recently.
I groan. “I’ll come up with other ways to discipline you if you’re naughty.”
“I’m kind of excited about that part. Leah acts like it’s the most fun in the world to misbehave so Craig has to scold her.”
“I’ve created a monster.” I narrow my gaze at her. “How about you start off not being a naughty girl?”
She sighs dramatically, not realizing that action alone would land her in a corner. “Okay.”
I have an important question she might not like. “Tell me how you were disciplined growing up. I don’t want to do anything that triggers you.”
“Misbehaving wasn’t an option. It’s kind of hard to explain, but we simply didn’t do it. Not intentionally. My mother ran the household. She ran a tight ship. Everything was delegated. It wasn’t up for debate. We didn’t whine or fuss or argue. It just wasn’t allowed.”
“Ever?” I’m so confused.
“Well, I guess sometimes we acted disgruntled, but my father would tell my mother to handle it and leave the room. He wasn’t around much. He left child-rearing to my mother. We were seen and not heard I guess you’d say.”
“Okay. As long as you don’t have any bad memories that would trigger you. If you notice anything that does, you need to tell me immediately. Understood?” I lift a brow. I’m serious.
“Yes, sir.”
“If no one spanked you or put you in timeout or made you do extra homework as a form of discipline, then you’re probably going to be fine.”
Her eyes widen. “Extra homework?”
I chuckle and set her away from me. I’m not going to be able to keep her from noticing the bulge in the front of my jeans any longer if I don’t. “Absolutely.” I point at her chair. “Sit, kitten. Time to study.”
She scrambles onto the chair like a star pupil, back straight, hands crossed, ever the eager beaver.
I’m in so much trouble with this precious Little one.