Juliet
Daddy is like a robot. He’s unflappable. Nothing I do tempts him to have sex with me. It’s maddening. Why must we wait? We’ve waited a lifetime. I’m done waiting. I want to sleep in his bed. I want him to hold me in the night. I want him inside me.
I kind of wish I had chosen a different dildo so I’d have something more realistic to emulate what it will be like to be filled by Aldric. The thin vibrator I ordered isn’t wide enough.
I’ve masturbated more in the last week than I have in my entire life. Well, that might be an exaggeration, but I can say for sure it’s not as gratifying. I can come faster and easier with the electronic toys, but I want more. I’m always left unsatisfied.
I’m glad we cleaned out my parents’ bedroom. It’s nice not to have to walk by the closed door constantly feeling that pit in my stomach. Daddy had the furniture moved out two days later and today he has men in there refinishing the floors. Tomorrow someone is coming to paint and someone else is going to give an estimate on the bathroom.
The problem is that I get incredibly stressed when strangers come into the apartment, and I don’t like to be left alone with them. The first time it happened, I locked myself in my room and tried to focus on my work. It didn’t last too long that day. Those were just movers. They came while Daddy was able to be upstairs between classes.
Today I woke up panicking though. Luckily, Daddy read my mood and understood and encouraged me to come downstairs to the studio where he could be close to me.
That’s where I am now. In his office. The office that used to belong to my parents. Daddy has made many changes to it in the last few years, making it feel like his space now. It doesn’t stress me out.
He has a loveseat against the window, and I’m curled up in the corner of it with my mother’s journal in my lap. I’m staring out at the dusting of snow we got last night.
I look down at the journal and drag a finger across the cover. I’ve put off looking at it for days, always managing to fill my time either working or reading something other than this journal.
It’s time. I know Daddy is waiting for me to heal old wounds, and the only way to do that is to face them head on.
I know in the grand scheme of things, I’m one of the lucky ones. My parents loved me and I loved them. Sure, they had hoped I would be a ballerina and I had disappointed them in that area, but they had accepted my introverted personality and let it go.
It wasn’t until it was time for me to go to college that we’d really begun to bump heads. My parents were worried about me, and they encouraged me to go away to college, live in a dorm, experience everything university life had to offer.
We’d argued several times until I finally relented. I did it for them. To get them off my back. Maybe that’s an exaggeration. By the time I moved into the dorm, the tension between us was so thick I’d been glad to get out of my parents’ home.
College life wasn’t for me. I was a great student with good grades. That wasn’t the problem. I simply don’t like being around most people. I’m a misfit. I was born that way. I’m far too shy to make friends, and even when I put forth the effort, I never have anything in common with the women I meet.
I spent a lot of time sulking in my dorm room, frustrated and alone. It always seemed like the other girls in the dorm talked about me behind my back. It doesn’t matter if they did or not. Why should I care? I know good and well I’m awkward. They weren’t saying anything untrue.
I grip my mother’s journal against my chest and hold it tight. It’s like a living being. As long as I haven’t opened it, it could say anything. It’s a pandora’s box. It might be soothing. It might cause me pain.
Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I force myself not to cry. Why did I have to be such a bitch for those two years? I want them back. I want to go back in time and be kind to my parents for everything they did for me. I want to tell them how much I love them.
I want to go back to the day my mother asked me to go on vacation to New York with them and tell her yes. I want to be in the car with them when it was hijacked so that I could have died in the gunfire too instead of being left alone in the world.
Except I’m not alone. I’ve never been alone. Not for one moment.
Daddy has been with me the entire time, holding me together as best he can. I know I’ve let him down and he needs me to make peace before we can move on. I just don’t know how to do it.
He’s waiting for me. I’m the one holding us back. I can badger him to have sex with me, but he’s not going to until I face my demons.
I take a deep breath and force myself to open the journal. It’s thick and goes back several years. I found other older journals in my mother’s belongings when we cleaned out the room. I put them in my room, but this latest one is the most important.
What if my mother was angry with me all the time? That will hurt.
It feels like fate when I randomly open it to a page near the front and immediately realize it’s my graduation day. My heart races as I read my mother’s entry. How proud she is of me. How bright my future is. How she knows I’m going to be successful no matter what I do.
It seems like a great place to start, so I keep reading forward. She doesn’t write every day, but at least three times a week.
I can almost feel my mother next to me as I read her words. I can hear the laughter in her voice and remember the way she hugged me and how she would smile at me.
She talks about me a lot. Sometimes she mentions the studio or date night with my father, but it’s obvious I was the most important person in her life. I never knew she spent that much time thinking about me or worrying about me.
I feel bad that she was so concerned. She fretted endlessly about their decision to send me away to college. Was she doing the right thing? Would I be able to fit in? What if I hated her?
I start to cry. I never said I hated her, nor did I think it, but did she feel that way? I was cold and mean and rude to my parents. I keep reading, forcing myself to soak in her words.
Throughout my two years of insolence, she loved me. She was proud of me. She wanted the best for me. She worried all the time because she knew I didn’t go out and didn’t have friends. She considered telling me I could come back home and finish school online.
It’s clear my parents discussed their options often and formed a united front, continuing to encourage me to stay at school. They thought it was the best thing for me.
Tears are running down my face as I close my eyes and remember my mother asking me to go to New York with them. It was near the end of my second year of school. I still had finals left. She offered to move the trip to the next week if I would go with them.
I don’t travel well. Even though I was born in New York, I don’t remember it, and I have no interest in going back. The idea makes my chest pound. To an introvert who is nearly agoraphobic, the thought of being surrounded by that many people makes me sweat.
“Juliet?”
I jerk my gaze up to find Daddy in the doorway to his office. His brows are furrowed with concern and he races forward the moment he meets my gaze.
“Oh, honey…” He takes the journal out of my hands, closes it, and sets it on the desk before lifting me up and settling in my spot with me on his lap. He holds me tight. Keeping me together. Does he know he’s like my glue? The only thing that keeps me sane? The reason I get up in the morning?
I cry harder. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.
He rubs my back. “It’s okay, baby girl. Let it out.”
I fist the front of his tight shirt. “I was s-s-so mean to them.” I hiccup on another sob.
“You weren’t, honey.”
I shake my head. “Yes, I was. They wanted me to go to New York. I should have gone or at least been polite about it. I didn’t have to be mean.”
“Honey, they knew you loved them.”
“Did they?” This worries me all the time.
“Yes, baby girl. They knew. If you read anything in that journal, you know they did.”
I blink at him. “Have you read it?”
He nods. “Cover to cover.”
“Oh.” Of course. That makes sense. He wouldn’t have encouraged me to read the journal without vetting it first. What if it would’ve made me feel worse?
He kisses my temple. “They loved you, baby girl. Every day. Never doubt that.”
I suck in another sob. “I-I know. But why was I so mean? And why didn’t I go with them? I should have been with them. I should have d—”
Daddy slaps his hand over my mouth and tips my head back. “Don’t say that, Juliet.” His brows are furrowed. “I know you miss them and it’s so hard to go on without them, but you’re here and you’re alive.”
My lip trembles. “Maybe it would be easier if I weren’t,” I murmur.
He shakes his head. “Easier for whom? Not for me. My heart would have gone with you and a piece of my soul would have died.”
I suck in a breath, staring at him.
“I told you how much you mean to me and how long I’ve felt that way. A very long time, honey. It was devastating to find out your parents had died. I mourned them too. I loved them tremendously. They were like a second set of parents to me. Do you know how guilty I felt?”
I gasp. “Why did you feel guilty?”
“Because I thanked God every day that you were spared. That you came home to me. That I got to pick you up and bring you home and be with you every single day since. I was selfish. I don’t even know if I did the right thing. Maybe I should have encouraged you to stay and finish school.”
It feels like all the oxygen is sucked out of the room.
He holds me tighter. “I was greedy. I wanted to comfort you and be with you any way I could have you. So, I let you come home and I’ll never know if I did the right thing. You’re lonely and sad and agoraphobic. I have to ask myself every day if that’s my fault. If I’m enabling you. If you would have been better off if I hadn’t interfered.”
I can’t breathe as I shake my head. “No.” I twist around to fully face him and grab his shoulders. “No,” I repeat. “You saved me. You were there for me. I can never thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. I would have died without you. I probably would have stopped eating altogether in despair. You kept me going. You’re my rock.”
I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, never wanting to let him go. I cry again, my tears soaking his shoulder. He’s going to need a new shirt before he can teach the next class.
Wait… What time is it? It’s dark. Maybe I was so absorbed in the journal that I didn’t realize the passage of time. I bet it’s late. All classes are over. He was coming to get me so we could go upstairs.
I’m glad. I don’t want him to let me go. I never want him to let me go. I’m greedy and selfish and needy and confused.
And Little.
It’s not related. I knew I was Little before my parents died. I had fantasies of Aldric as my Daddy long before they died. Back then I was embarrassed and confused about my feelings. Now, I’m growing more and more comfortable in my skin each day.
He kisses my neck, and when I lift my head, he trails his lips to mine. His gaze holds mine captive as his lips brush mine over and over. “I’m here, baby girl. Always.”
I hope so. I don’t think I could go on without him. I hold him tighter as if he might disappear if I let him go.
“Can I make a suggestion?” Daddy asks.
I nod.
“This weekend is a three-day weekend. Why don’t we go to Blossom Ridge?”
“Sleep there?”
He nods. “Yep. It would give you a chance to spend time with other Littles and see how they live. Maybe you could relax and make some friends.”
I chew on my lip. I’ve never slept a single night away from this apartment since my parents died. “Would we share a room?” I perk up at the idea. Maybe it would be worth it.
He smiles. “No. But they have adjoining rooms. Didn’t Leah take you on a tour?”
I nod. She did. I’ve seen them. “Yeah.”
“Then you know they have rooms for Daddies with attached rooms for Little girls. They share a bathroom. You’d be just as close to me as you are here at home. We could even leave the door open so you don’t get scared.”
I consider his suggestion. He’s probably right. It would be good for me. I know he’s pushing me to get out of this apartment and make friends. It’s important to him. It might be a deal-breaker. “Okay.”
His brows lift. “Yeah? You’ll go?”
I nod. I’m nervous already, but I can do this. It’s not New York City. It’s not Vegas. It’s not even the general public. It’s a resort for age play. All the guests will be Littles and their Daddies. I might make friends. I already have Leah, but I could be friends with Amy too. Maybe even one of the other guests.
“Great. I’ll let Craig know we’d like to come.”
I throw my arms around him again. My heart is beating fast. I don’t like to sleep away from home. I’m scared. What if I have a nightmare or wake up and don’t know where I am?
What if I have the best weekend of my life and make Daddy proud of me so he’ll think I’m healing and move me into his bed?