Beck and Levi nod agreement, both of them saying “night” at the same time.
Master Roman scoots his chair back and reaches out toward me. I step into his embrace. His hand wraps around my thighs and then slides up under my skirt to cover my bottom. It’s his signature move. I’m used to it. I crave it. My panties dampen every time. And I’m glad he hasn’t sent me away for the night without touching me so intimately, letting me know he loves me with his hand on my panty-covered bottom.
He taps my nose. “Teeth. Potty. Nightgown. Bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Yes, Sir.” A tight ball forms in my belly. I want more than he’s going to give me. I want to be his good girl so that I’ll be rewarded with his hands and mouth on my body, his cock inside me.
Chapter 4
Lucy
* * *
It only takes me a few minutes to get ready for bed, and I definitely don’t need two reminders on how it’s done, but that’s the role we’re playing tonight. Granted, Master Roman doesn’t usually talk to me at quite that level—as if I might not use the bathroom or brush my teeth before bed—but the result is nearly the same.
I’m aroused. The act of looking me in the eye and instructing me what to do gets to me every time. It really doesn’t matter what it is he’s commanding. I like being guided. I love it. An hour ago, I was leery about this age he’s assigned to me tonight, but it hasn’t been the disaster I feared.
I used to wonder why I’m like this. I’d fret over it even after multiple assurances that I’m not alone. Eventually Master Roman found me a counselor who specialized in the fetish community. He thought it would ease my mind. And it did. Mistress Vivian was her name, and she held my gaze and never judged me for a single minute while I slowly opened up to her. Week after week, I went to see her. Usually Weston drove me and waited outside. Sometimes Master Roman took me.
We delved deeply, examining my real childhood and finding it lacking. She didn’t really say anything Master Roman hadn’t already told me, but I’d needed a professional opinion, especially from someone I wasn’t sleeping with.
We hashed out my early life—the death of my verbally abusive father from a heart attack when I was ten, my mother’s death a year later, and me moving from the only home I’d ever known in Missouri to live with a grandmother I’d never known existed in Chicago. My parents had no money, so I hadn’t had anything special as a child. I’d also spent most of that time huddled in a corner to avoid my father.
Things hadn’t improved when I went to live with my grandmother. She’d made it clear I had a place to sleep, a roof, and food. I could live there until I was an adult as long as I behaved and went to school. When I’d turned eighteen, she’d sent me on my way, and I’d moved to Seattle.
It took a while, but Mistress Vivian helped me see that my desire to live as a little stems directly from having missed out on actually being a child when I was one. Twelve, the age I’d been when I went to Chicago, had been the year I essentially had to be grown-up. It probably isn’t random that I’m most comfortable in that age range. I never played with toys or coloring books or wore nice dresses.
But more importantly, no one nurtured me. I didn’t feel loved. My life before I was twelve hadn’t been structured. My father ignored me, and my mother tried to keep me out of sight.
Having a relationship with a man who fulfills the craving I have to be taken care of, nurtured, and loved is not strange at all. This doesn’t mean I’m not fully aware of the fact that most people would not understand.
Mistress Vivian and I also talked about the fact that I might have a half brother and what that meant to me after twenty-two years of thinking I had no real family. In an interesting twist, I both lost and gained a distant family member in the same night. The night I found a file on me in Master Roman’s office and nearly left him. The night I learned my grandmother had died and a brother was looking for me.
Mistress Vivian helped me delve into all of this. At first, I couldn’t deal with facing the man who claimed to be my brother. I understood that there was little doubt. There was plenty of proof. But I was living in a bubble. A new lifestyle. It didn’t have room for disruption.
After several months, I finally felt strong enough to face Daven Neill, only to find out that he’d disappeared. None of the information we had about him was valid. I took it as a sign and asked Master Roman to leave it alone. I had a family. I had Master Roman and his staff and his friends. They were mine too. They still are.
I realize I’ve been standing in the bathroom staring at nothing for a while.
I scurry out of the bathroom and rush toward my twin bed, hoping to be situated before Master Roman enters the room to tuck me in. I’m wearing the nightgown Master Roman probably had Nancy set out for me. It’s one I wear often. A pink Hello Kitty nightgown with ruffles at the shoulders. It reaches about two inches past my bottom. Besides my new bracelet, it’s the only thing I’m wearing. Master Roman has never let me wear panties to bed.
As I slide between the pink sheets, I don’t bother to tug my nightie down over my bottom. It wouldn’t be there for long anyway. That much I know. I can all but guarantee I’m not going to be granted an orgasm tonight, but I’d bet my college degree that Master Roman is going to make me squirm and leave me hanging. It’s what he does best.
I reach for the bracelet he put on me earlier and rub it between my finger and thumb, comforted by what it represents.
Moments later, the door opens and Master Roman steps inside, shutting the door behind him. He comes to the side of the bed and sits next to me. His palm lands gently on my face. “Did you remember to brush your teeth, blossom?”
“Yes, Sir.” Apparently, I’m still five.
He smiles at me as he gently removes my fingers from my bracelet and sets my hand at my side. “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?”
I warm, my heart rate picking up. “Thank you, Daddy.”
He pulls my blanket down my body, exposing my pussy. My nightgown is bunched around my waist. That doesn’t last long though because his hands land on my hips and smooth up my body, pushing the cotton Hello Kitty nightie up with them. He cups my breasts and thrums my nipples with his thumbs.
I arch on a moan, and he releases my breasts to gather my nightie and tuck it above them, exposing my body to his view. His hands come back down, gently grazing over my nipples and my belly before reaching my hips. “Spread your legs open for me, blossom.”
I’m shaking with arousal and premature frustration I know is coming, but I do as I’m told, lifting my far knee, bending it, and letting it fall open wide, exposing my naked pussy to his view and the air.
Master Roman leans over to open the drawer on my bedside table, making my breath hitch. I never know what he might present me with when he aims for that drawer. It could be anything, because I am certain he swaps out the contents with frequency. I’m not permitted to open it ever, and I’ve never succumbed to the temptation. It’s not as if I could get away with snooping anyway. There’s a camera in the upper corner of my room across from my bed. Master Roman had installed it a few months after I’d moved in to ensure I never masturbate without permission.
I shudder when I glance at the ominous camera that constantly has a flashing red light, telling me it’s running. I’ve often wondered how much of me Master Roman watches at night. I’ll never know, of course. Perhaps he spends hours watching me sleep and assuring himself I don’t sneak a hand between my legs. Or it’s also possible he’s never watched a single moment.
When Master Roman straightens back in front of me, his gaze is on mine. His hands are holding a tube, and he pops it open and squeezes a long line of ointment on his finger.
I purse my lips. I’ve been around this block before. No explanation is needed. I’m going to get one anyway, because Master Roman knows that half my arousal comes from the blunt way he speaks to me, anything from telling me to finish my milk to describing how tight a butt plug is going to
be.
Sure enough, when he sets his enormous hand on my outer thigh to press it against the mattress, he starts to speak. “You know you haven’t earned sexual gratification today, right?”
“Yes, Sir,” I murmur, my body stiffening as he lowers that ointment-covered finger to my pussy. He smooths it on my clit first, nudging the hood back so that the warming gel doesn’t miss my most sensitive nub. He uses two fingers to slowly rub the stimulant down over my pussy, between every fold, and up inside me.
I arch, my mouth falling open. I’m so aroused from the last hour of obedience that I could come from very little contact, and he knows that. He meticulously pushes two fingers up inside me and scissors them to cover as much surface area as possible. When he pulls them back out, he continues lower, circling my forbidden hole before pushing those two fingers into my bottom next.
I’m panting when he finally pulls his hand away. He grabs a wet wipe from the mystery drawer and cleans off his fingers. “That will heat your skin, blossom.”
It already does. I grit my teeth. I need to come. I’m out of my mind with arousal. His words. His gaze. His fingers. The stimulant. It’s too much.
Master Roman pulls the covers up over my belly, but leaves them bunched below my breasts. “Try to lie still, baby girl. The more you squirm, the worse it will be. It will take about an hour for the stimulant to subside. You should use that time thinking about the conversation we’re going to have in the morning.” He lifts a brow. He knows I won’t use that time for anything except panting through the need to come.
He nods toward the camera. “Do I need to send my guests home early so I can monitor you?”
“No, Sir,” I breathe. “I won’t move.”
He settles my arms at my sides, trapping my nightgown above my chest and the blankets below. “Stay like this until you fall asleep.” He taps the sharp points of my nipples. “Don’t cover yourself. Don’t rub your legs together. Keep your hands above the blankets.” He lifts a brow again.
I nod.
He smiles and leans down to kiss my lips gently. “Such a good girl.” He pats my hip and then stands. “I have to work in the morning. Come to my office when your alarm goes off.”
“Yes, Sir.” I’m rarely permitted to sleep in, and honestly, I don’t need to because my bedtime is usually early. Whether or not I was ever a morning person is irrelevant. I am now.
“Sleep tight, baby girl,” he says as he leaves my room, shutting the door behind him. The lights go out moments later, because the switch is located on the other side of the wall. Even the lighting is not under my control. When Master Roman determines I’m to sleep, he shuts off the lights.
I lie very still for several seconds, breathing deeply, trying to control the warmth that is spreading around my pussy, including up inside my sex and in my bottom. Master Roman wasn’t messing around tonight. He didn’t even let his fingers linger as long as usual, letting the cream do the job after he left.
He’s good. He’s really good.
I’m so aroused, I could practically will myself to come without moving. That would be a cool trick, but somehow I doubt I’d get away with it. I would for sure jerk spontaneously over and over if I came. That part I wouldn’t be able to control.
I don’t know how much time passes, but eventually the stimulant’s effects wear down and I breathe easier. I’m still aroused, of course, but not to the point of needing sex more than a drug. I’m going to live. Yet again. I just need sleep.
Chapter 5
Lucy
* * *
I wake up with a start when my alarm goes off, realizing I’ve slept hard. I’m on my side. My nightgown is still bunched up above my breasts, but my covers are up over my shoulders. I’m sure I got chilled, at some point, hours ago. I always do.
I roll onto my back, blinking into the brightness that is my bedroom. Master Roman controls my alarm, and when he intends for me to be up, he has Nancy turn on my lights from outside. He doesn’t like me to dawdle. I learned that three years ago.
So, I only give myself a few minutes to get fully awake. Not even that long most days because if I ever fall back asleep after my alarm, I can’t imagine what my punishment might be. I shudder as I consider the possibility. Finally, I push to sitting and slip out of bed, my bare feet landing on the hardwood floor. I turn around to carefully make my bed, tucking my white ruffled comforter up around my pillows.
Something is off. I can’t put my finger on it, but it hovers at the edge of my mind as I make my way to the attached bathroom to use the toilet, wash my face, and brush my teeth. My braids are messy, and I undo them and re-braid my hair before I head back to the bedroom to get dressed.
When I step out of the bathroom, I stop in my tracks, my gaze on the white wicker chair at the foot of my bed. The empty white wicker chair. The one where Nancy or Master Roman always leave my clothes for the day. Every night I’ve slept in this room for over three years, I have awoken to find my selected outfit on that chair.
Nothing.
As if I might find my clothes somewhere else, I glance around and then spin to see if I foolishly overlooked my outfit in the bathroom. Nope.
I have nothing to put on. I’m standing in my little girl bedroom in my thin pink nightie that barely covers my bottom and nothing else. No shoes even. My heart races. Master Roman is making a statement. He obviously intends for me to come to him in my nightgown.
Taking a deep breath, I pad from the room and descend the back stairs that lead to the kitchen and Master Roman’s office. It’s early. I’m not sure what time it is, but I suspect it’s about six thirty.
I’m glad I don’t encounter Nancy, Weston, or Evelyn on my way down the stairs or in the hallway. After three years, I’m still occasionally embarrassed by a variety of things. I’m beyond used to being dressed as a young girl at all times. Everyone in this household understands our relationship, and they all treat me precisely as intended, but I’ve never wandered around this exposed. Not that anyone can see anything. I’m covered. But I’m still unnerved, which I have no doubt was Master Roman’s intention.
When I reach his office, the door is open. That’s my invitation to come inside. I take a breath as I do so, moving silently toward him on my bare feet, aware of my naked bottom.
He lifts his gaze, his expression unreadable. “Ah, you’re up.” He glances at his watch as if to confirm that I have not dawdled getting to him. “Did you sleep well, blossom?” He smiles as if nothing is out of the ordinary.
“Yes, Sir.” I continue slowly toward him, rounding the enormous mahogany desk to reach his side.
Master Roman sets his hand on the top of my head and smooths it around to cup my cheek. At five feet tall, I’m dwarfed by his six-foot-two height, so even sitting in his chair, he’s taller than me.
I want to ask about my clothes, but I don’t dare. Instead I meet his gaze and wait.
“How long did it take you to fall asleep?” he asks.
I lick my lips. “I’m not sure, Sir. A while.”
“Were you aroused?”
“Yes, Sir.” My voice squeaks. I’ve been through days like this when I had no idea what the heck was going to happen, but I’m totally lost this morning.
His smile is warm. “Did you enjoy playing a younger role?”
I glance down, embarrassed. It’s amazing how he always manages to make me squirm. It’s odd enough that I’ve spent over three years as his little girl, loving every minute. I’m used to it. I feel beyond loved and cared for. He never fails to ensure I know how much he loves me, in fact. Sometimes that love comes in the form of tough love when he has to punish me, but it’s always there. I never doubt it for a moment. Not even this morning.
“Lucy…” His finger comes to my chin, and he lifts my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. One brow is lifted. He wants an answer.
“Yes, Sir.” I could lie and say I hated it, that I prefer to be twelve, but the truth is that I was more aroused than usual last night. Tha
t happens when he shakes things up.
I do prefer to be twelve. It’s our agreed upon age most of the time. Though Master Roman has often dressed me in a variety of ages, he usually talks to me as though I were a preteen.
I wouldn’t want to spend days on end as a toddler, but trying something out of the ordinary makes me squirm. He knows it.
His smile broadens. “I thought so.” His fingers trail down my braid, and then he smooths his palm over my hip and lower until he pulls me closer to him with a grip at the back of my thigh. When he has me situated between his legs, his hand slides up to cover my bottom and squeezes.
My nightgown is lifted, exposing me further, and I glance at the door instinctively before I can stop myself.
Master Roman swats my bottom sharply, making me yelp as I jerk my gaze back to him.
“Sorry, Daddy.”
“Have I ever exposed you to the staff?”
“No, Sir.” I shake my head.
“Would I start now?”
I swallow.
“Your sweet bottom is behind my desk. Even if someone did come to the door, they wouldn’t see anything.”
I nod.
He releases me to open the bottom drawer of his desk and remove the pillow he keeps there for times like this. Times when he expects me to kneel at his side. When he drops it in front of me, I automatically lower to my knees without question, spreading them to the edges of the pillow.
In this position, no one can see me at all. Even my head is nearly below his desk level. And the pile of files on the corner blocks me entirely from the view of anyone who wanders down the hallway.
Master Roman reaches for the hem of my nightgown and pulls it over my head. “Hands clasped at your back, blossom.” He sets the pink cotton material on the opposite side of the desk.
I lower my gaze, shuddering at my total nudity in his office. The only thing I’m wearing is the bracelet he put on me last night. It’s not the first time I’ve been naked in this room. Not even close. But it is the first time I’ve done so with the door wide open.
Leaving Roman Page 4