I stand and pull the dress I’ve chosen over her head, smoothing it down her chest. It’s barely long enough to cover her bottom. She fidgets with the front of it immediately, and I try not to smile, knowing that smocking has to be sheer torture against her swollen nipples. I’m glad I removed the bra.
I hold out the blankie and she snatches it, bringing it to her chest. I’m reeling from all that is happening here so fast, but I’m not about to stop. I spin her away from the mirror and pull out the loose band around her hair. After grabbing her princess brush, I ease it through the tangles and then part her hair down the center and gather one side up high. I’ve done this before. I’ve played with several littles and even had a girlfriend once who enjoyed this lifestyle.
Making quick work, I have her hair up in two perfect pigtails with long pink ribbons tied into bows atop her head. “There,” I declare.
She turns around and looks at her reflection in the mirror before glancing at me. Her lip is trembling.
I take her hand and head back for the main room, dropping into an overstuffed armchair and then pulling her onto my lap.
She sobs softly as she snuggles against me. I get the feeling I’m not the one causing the tears. Something happened, and she’s more likely to talk about it now that I’ve changed her into the person she seems more comfortable being. So, I rock her back and forth for several minutes, letting her calm down.
I have one hand under her bottom, easing it up and down the small of her back, over her panties, and then her thigh. I keep this up. The contact against her skin calms me, too. She’s not the only one who needs to think and process this abrupt change in our dynamic.
Finally, I clear my throat. “Are you going to tell me what happened at Surrender tonight?”
She shakes her head rapidly like a little would, her hair flinging around.
“Let me rephrase that,” I say with full authority. “Would you like to tell me before or after I spank your bottom for not trusting me enough to share this side of you?”
She flinches and speaks for the first time since we entered this new dimension. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she whispers.
“I’m sure you are sorry, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to spank you.” I reach for her face and tip her head back, forcing her to look at me. “You’ve been naughty, baby girl, and when you misbehave, you will be punished.” I lift both brows, gauging her reaction.
She flushes beautifully and nods. She wants this. She wants me to spank her.
I slide her off my lap and onto her bare feet. I rise also and step over to the couch, lowering myself onto the center of it. I take her hand and lure her to one side of my legs before lifting her chin again and meeting her gaze. “I don’t know what happened, but you’ll feel better after I’ve spanked your little bottom, baby girl.”
She nods again.
As I lower her over my knees, I draw in a slow, deep breath, controlling my outward reaction to this development.
Cindy is a little. I’m stunned. How did I not see a single sign? She is precious and so fucking adorable. I want to flip this dress up and fuck her into tomorrow. But that’s not what’s going to happen. She needs to be disciplined for whatever reason, and then I pray she talks to me.
As she settles her cheek against her forearms on the cushion, I lift her dress and gather it high on her back. I pull her panties down to her knees next and then palm her bottom. I haven’t spanked her before tonight. We’ve used the floggers, but not my bare hand. I wasn’t sure how she might respond. Apparently, there are a lot of things I don’t know about Cindy.
I need confirmation about one thing before I start though. As ridiculous as this question sounds in my head, I need to ask. “Has anyone ever spanked you before, baby girl?”
She shakes her head and buries her face in her hands so I can’t see her as if she’s embarrassed to admit she has not been spanked. What the fuck?
I’m shocked once more. How long has she been a practicing little? Who knows about it? Who has been her Daddy before now?
I hesitate as I consider a distinct possibility—that no one knows about this side of her and no one has been a Daddy to her. That would explain a lot. If she has been fully closeted, all the things I know about her make more sense.
She hasn’t had a Dom or even a boyfriend. Not for a long time anyway. But why? It makes me sad to picture her coming home alone to this apartment where she’s obviously a little without anyone to care for her in the way she craves.
Before I came along and drew her into the club last week, she’d never entered except to pass through. Seven years of glancing without really watching. Roman and Julius must think she works there just for the job when really she has been suppressing a deep need that she never let out.
The question remains—why?
I smooth my hand over her soft round bottom and then up to her lower back and down to her thighs. When I finally lift my palm and swat her right in the center, she cries out.
“Stay still, baby girl. You’ll feel much better after I finish.” I spank her again, slightly harder and to one side. The next swat lands on the other cheek.
She flinches less with each contact, settling in to the new experience.
I continue, watching her carefully as I spank every inch of her bottom and upper thighs until she’s bright pink and warm to the touch. At some point, she squeezes her knees together and never lets them part again. In the future, I won’t let her do that, but tonight she is entitled to absorb her body’s reaction to the spanking any way she needs.
I intentionally land the last several swats low on her bottom, and when I finish, she’s panting and moaning softly. I don’t wait many seconds before lifting her off my lap and standing her on wobbly legs in front of me. Her panties are around her knees. Her dress is bunched up under her chest. It slowly falls back into place, and I reach for her panties and pull them up.
She gasps and grabs my shoulders as I tug them too high, causing the cotton to rub hard against her pussy. Before she falls, I lift her onto my lap again, cradling her against my chest, one arm around her waist, the other on her thigh.
Her heart is racing against my hand, and she’s trembling. She squeezes her knees together again, drawing them up, not caring that her dress lifts and leaves her bottom exposed to my hands. She curls into my chest and buries her face. “Thank you,” she whispers, and then she starts to cry.
The little blankie is still clutched in her hand and she brings it to her face and swipes at the tears. “Sorry,” she stammers out on a sob.
“No need to be, baby girl. Let it all out.” I rock her back and forth while she continues to cry, sobbing uncontrollably for a while before she finally slows to the occasional sniffle and shudder.
When she’s done, I lift the corner of her blankie and wipe away the remaining tears before tipping her face back and meeting her gaze. “Better?”
She nods. “The spanking made my clitty throb,” she announces.
I chuckle and smile at her before tapping her nose. “That tends to happen. It’s normal. I’ll take care of it later after we talk.” I force my voice to grow stern.
She looks down.
“Uh-uh. Little girl, you have a lot to say. Shall I pull it out of you? Or are you going to start talking on your own?”