Juliet
I’m grinning from ear to ear as I nearly skip to my bedroom and through to my bathroom. I can’t believe this is happening. I leave my bedroom door open and my bathroom door ajar, willing him to come in and find me naked.
How many times have I dreamed of Aldric giving me a bath and putting my nightgown on? Millions. Like all my dreams. I have a stash of scenes my mind has piled up over the years.
I can’t believe any of this is going to come true. I pinch myself, yelping when it hurts. As I fill the tub, I remove my skimpy clothes and drop them in the hamper. I stare at my hamper as I lower into the water and lean back.
Aldric knows everything I own. Like everything else, he does my laundry. Most of the tasks he took on happened naturally while I was wallowing in self-pity for months after my parents died. If he hadn’t been here to cook and clean and make sure I ate and bathed, I don’t know what might have happened to me.
I was lonely. I had been for most of my life. Not the kind of lonely someone feels from not having friends. The kind of lonely someone feels from not being understood.
I’ve never told a single soul about my odd thoughts of being cared for by another person. I wasn’t fully aware of my preferences and desires when my parents were alive, so I certainly never discussed my cravings with them.
Back then, I simply knew I was different. Not like other girls. I went away to college with the hope of blending in. Becoming “normal.” Meeting other people, making friends, dating, all the things I watched other girls do.
None of that came to fruition because my two years in the dorm only solidified the fact that I was different. While my peers giggled and partied, I buried myself in my books in my room. I couldn’t muster up the energy to join them. Any time I dressed up, put on makeup, and joined my peers, I felt like a fraud. Like I was outside of my body looking in. Floating around watching.
Sometimes I thought I should get counseling. But then I stumbled upon age play. I read it in a romance novel. It was eye-opening. I still didn’t know real people felt the way I do, but at least it was validating.
That’s when my research began in earnest. I googled everything. I joined online communities of Littles. I always remained on the periphery looking in, but I knew myself better.
I can’t believe I’ve found Blossom Ridge. I’m still too stunned to let it fully sink in. After my first trip there, I spent last week even more withdrawn than before. Scared that it might blow up in my face if I let myself believe.
And then there’s Aldric. I wasn’t sure what he wanted. I worried he stayed with me out of pity or some sort of obligation to my parents. I’m still reeling with the new knowledge that he sees me as more than a Little girl.
He hasn’t acted on it in any way yet, but I’m not surprised. I’ve shocked him with my admission. He’s processing it too.
I touch my lips. That brief kiss he gave me made my heart beat out of my chest. I’ll cherish that moment for the rest of my life. My first kiss. Not a real one exactly, but it’s my memory to tuck away anyway.
I smile and it shocks me. I haven’t been smiling often. Not for a long time. I know my parents wouldn’t want me to remain in mourning, a walking shell of myself. They would be disappointed if they could see me. I know that, but it’s hard to move on anyway. I’m stuck, unable to let myself be truly happy, unable to move on with my life.
I know it. Aldric knows it. He’s encouraged me to get help or talk to him dozens of times. I always turn him down. It’s easier to continue to wallow in self-pity. Woe is me. The poor girl whose parents died tragically when she was twenty.
I pull out the band in my braid and unravel it before slinking down lower in the water so that my hair gets wet. I squeeze my eyes closed and linger a moment while my ears are underwater. I love the feeling I get when I’m submerged. My mind clears for those precious seconds, eliminating the world.
When I pop back up, I reach for my favorite shampoo and work it through my pin-straight hair. It’s fine and wispy. There’s not much I can do with it but braid it out of my face. It’s also getting long. I haven’t had it cut in forever. I never feel like going to a salon to get it done. That requires interacting with other people.
Sometimes, I flip my head over and trim the ends. At least I manage to take a few inches off. I’m sure it’s not even, but I don’t care. I rarely wear it down anyway.
Aldric always notices. Every time. “You cut your hair again.” He chuckles as if it’s funny that I do it myself. It probably is.
After rinsing and putting conditioner in, I wash my body with the loofah and lean back, closing my eyes. The water is lapping over my breasts, teasing my nipples.
I wish I’d shut and locked the door now. I’m aroused and need to take the edge off. I’ve been masturbating for years. Usually in this tub or late at night or early in the morning in my bed under the covers. I go to sleep thinking about Aldric and wake up to thoughts of him reentering my mind.
I’ve worried for a long time that I’m living on a razor-thin edge and he could leave me any day. I’ve often wondered why he didn’t. I’m a grown adult. He easily could have pointed that fact out and moved on with his life. Instead, he stayed. For three years.
I encouraged him by pretending I’m incapable of taking care of myself. Making it seem like I needed him. Or perhaps that was not quite true. Like he pointed out, maybe I let him baby me because it’s in my blood. Because I craved it more than water or oxygen.
There are other things I crave too. Please, God, tell me I’m going to get them.
I let my hands slide over my belly and up to my breasts. They’re not very big. After all, I have a dancer’s lean body and small chest. I’m short and petite with no fat on me anywhere. Even if I had never danced in my life, I was born to two dancers. I have their bodies and stature.
Does Aldric care that my breasts are small and my nipples tiny points? I shiver at the thought, plus the water is getting cold. As I pinch my sensitive nipples and give them a tug, I consider adding more hot water and lingering longer. I could easily reach between my legs, find my swollen nub, and bring myself to orgasm. It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes.
I glance at the door and stop myself. Aldric said he was going to come tuck me in. I need to stop before I get caught masturbating. That would be more humiliating than anything else that’s happened today. And the list is long.
I’m trembling as I rinse my hair, release the water, and step out of the tub. I grab a towel to wrap around my hair and another to dry off my body. After brushing my teeth and putting moisturizer on my face, I step into my room.
I never leave the door open when I’m bathing. It would have been inappropriate. I’m well aware that I wander around the apartment dressed provocatively, but not naked. Not in a towel.
I rush across the room to my dresser, grab a nightie and some panties, and return to the bathroom. This time I shut the door before hanging up the towels and pulling the thin nightie over my head.
It’s far more revealing than any tank top or leotard I wear. I have several just like it. I order my clothes online. Aldric never sees me after I retire to my room at night, but he does do my laundry. He’s seen my nighties.
Alone in my room, I’ve always been able to pretend I’m someone else. Daddy’s Little girl. Someone who gets tucked in and read to and kissed goodnight.
In the first few weeks after my parents died, Aldric did come in to comfort me when he heard me crying, but that was long before I owned such revealing nighties and skimpy lace panties. Back then, I wore pajamas or long T-shirts. Plus, I was under the covers.
I run a comb through my hair and stare at myself in the mirror for several minutes before finally opening the door. I stop in the doorway as my gaze lands on Aldric. He’s sitting on my bed. He’s so sexy I can’t stand it. He has taken a shower. His hair is short and it’s still damp. He has on loose sleep pants and a tight T-shirt. His biceps bulge with muscles. The kind dancers have so they can lift ballerinas into the air.
Aldric hasn’t performed in years, but he has maintained his lean body, and I’m drooling over it. No one has ever lifted me into the air. Even though I danced for years in the studio with my parents, I never performed. I never had a partner. Suddenly I wonder what it would be like to fly through the air in Aldric’s arms.
When my gaze scans up to his face, I find him rubbing his temples with one hand. “Jesus, Juliet. Is that what you wear to bed?”
I nod, fidgeting, uncertain. “Yes.” He knows. He sees them in the laundry. Maybe he didn’t fully grasp how risqué my nighties are without seeing one on me.
He stands slowly. “You didn’t dry your hair.”
I shrug. “It will dry in the night.”
He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t go to bed with wet hair, baby girl.” He shuffles toward me. When he reaches me, he takes my shoulders and turns me to usher me into the bathroom once more.
He opens the cabinet under my sink, finds my hair dryer, and plugs it in. Before I can fully process what his intentions are, he’s begun to dry my hair.
For some reason, I find this moment to be the most intimate experience of my life. His fingers keep running through my locks. Nothing has ever felt so good. I want to close my eyes and luxuriate in the contact, but then I’d miss watching him.
Instead, I stare at him in the mirror, enjoying the way he cares for me. So gently. He never lets a single strand get tugged too hard.
For the first time I can remember, I actually feel self-conscious about my chest. My nipples are hard points that he can easily see through the thin fabric of my pale pink nightie. Lace straps hold the sheer material up. The same lace rings the edge across my chest and around the hem that hangs just barely below my butt.
When I meet Aldric’s gaze again, he’s looking at me too. He’s staring at my chest. My hair is dry, but the hair dryer is still on. He’s holding it at his side, blowing it toward the wall. His other hand is stroking through my hair slowly, over and over.
Eventually, his gaze lifts to mine and he swallows before closing his eyes. He turns off the hair dryer. His voice is husky as he speaks. “Get into bed, baby girl.”
I turn and flee the room, knowing I’ve pushed him to the limit. I’m not exactly sorry. I’d prefer he not work so hard to maintain control. But I get it. We only revealed how we felt about each other a few hours ago. I can’t expect him to take me to his bed immediately and change everything.
After I slide under the covers, Aldric emerges from the bathroom. Again, I let my gaze roam up and down his body, my breath hitching when I see his erection bulging at the front of his sleep pants.
When he speaks, I flinch and jerk my gaze away. “If your goal is to kill me, you’re succeeding, Juliet,” he warns.
I lick my lips as he sits on the edge of my bed. He stares at me for a long time, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek reverently. “Baby steps, Juliet. We’re not rushing to any finish line. You need to stop dressing so provocatively. I’m going to chase you down and tug sweatshirts over your head if you keep that up.” He lifts a brow.
I giggle. I can’t stop it. I feel lighter. Freer. Happier than I have in a long time. “I might like it if you chase me.”
He groans. “I have no doubt. I’m not going to claim your body, baby girl. Not for a while. We need to grow into this relationship together first. I want to work on what our age-play dynamic looks like before we take on a physical relationship.”
I sigh. “Don’t they kind of go together?”
“In the end, yes. But right now, it’s too much at once.”
I tug my arm out from under the covers and slide my hand up his biceps. “Maybe we do it in the other order?” I suggest nervously.
He narrows his gaze at me. “Not a chance. Wipe the idea from your mind, Juliet. I’m not touching your body so fast. We need to take our time. Get to know one another in this new dimension. And, I’m worried about your headspace, honey,” he adds gently. “You’ve been hiding from the world for three years. We need to work on your grief and do what it takes to help you find yourself.”
I suck in a breath. “I know what I want,” I insist. His words sting. Two minutes ago I was elated that we’ve finally admitted our feelings and everything in my world felt like it was moving forward.
He brushes a lock of hair from my forehead, his touch so gentle. Loving. My heart beats faster from that alone. “You haven’t moved on, Juliet.”
I sigh. He’s right.
“You’re hiding from the world and from yourself. You have to face yourself before you can face me.”
I stare at him. I get it, I just don’t like it. “Okay. Could you maybe lie down with me for a while?”
He narrows his gaze at me, smirking. “Not a chance in hell.” He leans forward and kisses my forehead before retreating several inches. “Sleep, baby girl.”
I giggle, feeling naughty and brave. “As soon as you leave this room, I’m going to touch myself and pretend it’s you.”
He groans and rises to his feet. “Go right ahead. I’m not coming back into this room again until I’ve had you in my bed.” He leans over me, planting his hands on both sides of my body, not touching me, but making direct eye contact. “Get it all out of your system, naughty girl. Once we cross that line and I make you mine in every way, I won’t let you touch yourself again.”
I gasp. My entire body trembles. Is he serious?
Oh, he’s dead serious. I’ve never seen anyone so serious in my life. He’s not laughing. Can he even enforce that? How the heck would he know?
Before I can utter another syllable, he kisses my forehead again, shoves off my bed, and leaves the room. He shuts my door behind him.
I stare at the door for a long time, breathing heavily. I can’t believe what he just said. I’m too stunned to move. And my panties are soaked. I’m so aroused I’m shaking.
Are all Daddies that controlling? I think back on Leah’s admission that day when I told all her friends I dance secretly when I’m alone. Her guilty pleasure was using a stash of vibrators in her office when she was supposed to be working. Does Craig not permit her to masturbate?
I want to know. I have thousands more questions now. Is that too personal to ask someone I just met?
In any case, more importantly, where do I get these vibrators she spoke of? I’m going to find out and order some tomorrow. If Aldric thinks he’s going to control my orgasms in the future, I’ll be challenging him every step of the way, starting with making sure I have the tools to get the most out of my time alone between now and when he claims my body.
I have a suspicion he doesn’t intend to make love to me any time soon. That makes me kind of sad, but it also makes me feel invigorated and so very naughty.