Big Beautiful Little

by Ava Sinclair

  The older woman didn’t return Tiffany’s greeting as she walked into the foyer. She looked around for a moment before turning to Tiffany and handing her a piece of paper. Tiffany’s heart sank as she looked at it. The check she’d written to cover the rent had bounced.

  Tiffany stared in disbelief at the notice Mrs. Crane had handed her.

  “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this, Miss Barlow,” the property manager was saying. “Banks make errors, but of course we will have to have this covered today to avoid a late charge.”

  “Of course,” she stammered. “Let me call the bank right away. It has to be a mistake.” But even as she sat down at her computer to access her bank’s website, Tiffany had a sinking feeling that this was not a mistake, but something much worse.

  Her heart sank further as she pulled up her account.

  Damn you, Nick, she said to herself. He’d not made the car payment, and the company had drafted the amount out of her account. This had caused a snowball effect, and her eyes clouded with tears as she stared at a list of non-sufficient fund charges for bounced checks to not just her landlord but to the utility, cable, and cell phone companies.

  “So, should I just redeposit the check?” Mrs. Crane was asking.

  Tiffany blinked rapidly and tried to keep her voice from shaking as she answered.

  “Um, no. I’m afraid I have a problem with the bank.”

  “Oh.” Mrs. Crane frowned. “I can run the rent payment on a debit card with another account if you’d rather we do that.”

  Tiffany looked down, ashamed. “I don’t have another card,” she said. “That’s the only account I have.”

  “What about a credit card?” the property manager pressed.

  Tiffany didn’t want to tell her the truth—that she was paying off cards she maxed out during her last relationship, often for things Nick wanted.

  You big dummy.

  “No,” Tiffany replied. “I don’t.”

  Mrs. Crane sighed. “Look, Miss Barlow. When you applied to rent this place, I had misgivings based on your self-employment status. But you assured me that covering the rent wouldn’t be a problem…”

  “And it won’t!” Tiffany interrupted. “I promise. I had… someone owed me money and didn’t pay it. But I’ll get it straightened out. I promise.”

  “By Friday.” The property manager pointed her finger in Tiffany’s face for emphasis. “This is a very desirable neighborhood. And we do not hesitate to do evictions. There will be no stringing this out if you can’t pay.” She headed to the door. “I expect to hear from you by the end of the week to avoid our starting proceedings. I’ll show myself out, Miss Barlow.”

  Tiffany turned and ran her hand through her hair. Even from two thousand miles away, Nick was still able to wreck her day. But it was her own fault. She should have known better.

  Taking a deep breath, she picked up her cell phone and called his. It rang twice and then went straight to voice mail, which meant he declined her call. She tried his house, planning to leave a message. Hearing Ruth Anne answer the phone momentarily stunned her into silence.

  “Is Nick there?” she finally managed.

  Now there was silence on the other end of the line. “No, Tiffany. He’s not,” Ruth Anne said after a moment. “Did you try his cell?”

  “Yes. He’s not picking up. And it’s urgent.”

  Another moment of silence.

  “Listen, Ruth Anne. Nick didn’t make the car payment this week like he agreed to.”

  “Yeah, well, Tiffany, he said he told you he couldn’t.”

  “Right. And I told him he had to,” Tiffany replied, trying not to be angered by the hostile tone coming from a woman who’d pretended to be her best friend while bedding her fiancé. “Now they’ve drafted the payment out of my bank and it’s caused a bunch of service fees. Nick needs to overnight me the car payment and an extra two hundred dollars for…”

  “Whoa.” Now Ruth Anne was laughing. “Are you insane? If we can’t make the car payment, what makes you think we can pay that and your fees?”

  “Nick promised, Ruth Anne!” Tiffany shot back, her voice shaking now. “He said you two needed the car. I was doing him a favor…”

  “A favor he earned, Tiffany!”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tiffany asked.

  “Oh, come on, Tiffany. He stayed with you a lot longer than he ever should have. You were such a drag on him. If anything, you owe him.”

  “Really?” Now Tiffany was getting angry. “Ruth Anne, I paid almost all the bills…”

  “Bullshit.”

  Tiffany grew quiet. “Believe what you want,” she said. “But if Nick is such a catch, why can’t he pay the car payment?”

  “Because we just put money down on a house,” Ruth Anne said. Her tone turned smug. “I’m pregnant.”

  Tiffany sunk down on the sofa.

  “Are you still there?” There was triumph in Ruth Anne’s voice. “Listen. He told you he’d assume the loan next month and he will. So get off our backs.”

  Tiffany winced at the click on the other end of the line. She put her phone down on the coffee table, trying not to think of all the times she’d told Nick of her dreams to have a home of their own.

  When the phone rang again, she picked it up, hoping against hope that Ruth Anne had told Nick, who’d been shamed enough to call to say he’d send the money. But it wasn’t a number she recognized, and was surprised to hear Lance’s voice. She told him so, her tone wooden.

  “I’m calling from my personal cell,” he said. “You should put it in your contacts.” He paused. “Did you do your homework?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “So what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tiffany?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, okay? Just… it’s none of your business.”

  For a moment, she thought he’d hung up, too.

  “What are you doing right now?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “Stay where you are, princess. I’m coming over.”

  Chapter Seven: Lines

  Lance arrived fifteen minutes later carrying a flat, rectangular object up the walk. It took Tiffany a few moments to realize it was a chalkboard. It barely fit through her door. Lance said nothing as he took it into her living room and set it up in front of her sofa.

  She supposed this was the next part of her lesson, and settled down on the sofa, expecting him to write something motivational on the board. Instead, he reached out and offered her a piece of chalk.

  “Come here, Tiffany,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “You’re going to write lines.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t always use spanking as punishment.” He continued to hold out the chalk. She kept her seat. “Unless, of course, you plan to disobey me by not coming here like I told you to. In that case, I will spank you. And believe me, by the time I’m finished, you’ll wish I hadn’t, princess.”

  Tiffany’s stomach rolled with apprehension. Even though the previous spanking had left her with a warm and protected feeling, it had hurt and she wasn’t ready to find out what a worse one would be like. She stood slowly and took the chalk.

  “What am I being punished for?”

  He pointed to the board. “I will always be honest and open with daddy. I want you to write that a hundred times.

  She stared at him, unbelieving. “You think I lied to you?”

  “You know you did,” he said. “There was something wrong. I could hear it in your voice. I’d rather deal with it this way than to spank it out of you. Now start writing.”

  Tiffany looked at the board. “There’s not enough room for a hundred lines.”

  “Clever girl,” he said. “The board holds about twenty-five lines. So as soon as you do a set of twenty-five, I’ll check them, erase them, and you can start the second set.”

  So Tiffany began to write. At first
, she found it strangely arousing, being forced to write lines as Lance watched from where he settled on the sofa. But by the time she finished the first set, her hand was cramping. By the second set, she was forced to shake it to ease the discomfort in her wrist. The third and fourth went slowly. She was feeling genuinely punished, and slightly ashamed with each passing line. Lance had asked her directly what was wrong. Why hadn’t she just told him? It was just what he asked her when she finally put the chalk down. It took her a moment to answer.

  “I guess I’m afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Afraid of scaring you away.”

  He smiled. “I don’t scare easily, princess. So, you want to tell me what is wrong, or do I need to make my own lines across your bottom with a switch?”

  She reddened at this and shook her head. “No.” She looked up at the ceiling, blinking away tears of embarrassment as she screwed up the courage to begin.

  Ten minutes later, she’d told him everything—the deal she’d made with Nick that allowed him to make payments on the car before assuming the loan, how he’d begun to renege on the agreement, and how his refusal to make the car payment had resulted in her current financial woes.

  Tiffany braced herself then, preparing for Lance to lecture her, to tell her what a fool she was, perhaps even to laugh at her stupidity. Instead, he did something unexpected. He got up, walked over, and embraced her in a hug.

  “Princess, there are some bad people in this world who will take your trust and throw it back in your face. Now, you’re a good girl. You try to give and give. But you can’t give bad people like that a chance to hurt you.” He stood back and looked down at her. “So. Do you want some advice from daddy on how to handle a bully like Nick?”

  She flushed with pleasure at how he referred to himself as ‘daddy.’

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You stand up to bullies,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, you’re going to get on that phone to the finance company and explain the situation. And then you are going to contact a lawyer who can give you the proper steps to repossessing that car…”

  She shook her head. “How can I hire a lawyer? Nick’s put me in a financial hole.”

  “I’ll pay for it.”

  “No,” she said adamantly. “You can’t.”

  “I can,” he said. “And I am. I’m going to help you out of this mess.” When she began to shake her head, he took her gently by the arms.

  “Tiffany, listen. This is who I am. It’s what I do. I want to take care of you, princess. Haven’t you figured that out yet? I want you to be my little girl, my perfect, curvy girl. That means you need to learn how to relax and let me do it.”

  She pulled away. “And then what? Have you leave?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “And what makes you think I would?”

  “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” she asked, crossing her arms. “I mean, you know about the lifestyle, about age play.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “I had a partner for several years. Her name was Katrina.”

  “So what happened? Why did you leave her?”

  “I didn’t leave her, Tiffany. She left me.”

  Tiffany found this hard to believe, and realized her doubt registered on her face.

  “It happens,” he said. “Age-play relationships are like any other. Sometimes the needs of one partner don’t align themselves with the needs of another. Katrina was very high maintenance. We met when she was young. She wasn’t as well rounded as she could have been. There were areas of her life I sought to improve, but she fought me. I think she felt like if she changed for the better, it would mean she’d have to grow up. I could never make her understand that it wasn’t a child I wanted, but an adult women submitting like a child. Those are two separate things. She wanted a man who could control her 24/7 and spank her when she bratted, which was all the time. But I had a business to run and couldn’t give her that kind of attention.” He shrugged. “She found somebody else.”

  “She was crazy,” Tiffany said before she could stop herself.

  “No crazier than Nick was to leave you.”

  Lance leaned in then and kissed Tiffany, the feeling of his mouth on hers a complete surprise. The gentleness of it overwhelmed her. The kiss was soft as her arms tentatively moved up his broad chest to wrap around his neck. But then he pulled her to him and the kiss deepened as he growled against her mouth. His tongue stroked hers as his large hands slid down her body, skimming her curves through the shift she wore and lower still until he was cupping and lifting her cheeks in his large hands. She could feel her pussy pulsing rhythmically, feel her panties soaking as he pulled her to him. Tiffany felt the hardness of his cock pressing into her.

  “Is this how all personal trainers operate?” Tiffany asked with a giggle when their lips parted.

  “Only the ones who decide to train their women to be the perfect little girl. Are you ready for that, princess?”

  Any part of Tiffany that could have said ‘no’ was washed away by the wave of arousal she felt as his arms tightened possessively around her.

  “So what happens now?” she asked.

  “Now,” he said. “We go back to my place.”

  Lance didn’t wait for an answer. There was a wrap on the hall tree by the door and he put it around Tiffany’s shoulders and led her out to his truck. It was late afternoon and the ever-present mist hung over the curving streets that wound their way past the gym and into a nicer neighborhood.

  Tiffany’s eyes widened when she saw Lance’s house. Although the gym was nice, he’d not put off the air of a wealthy man. But this house certainly indicated that he’d done quite well for himself. The two-story, Tudor-style home had a classic design with a sharply peaked slate roof. But inside, the house had a surprisingly modern open floor plan.

  “This view is amazing!” Tiffany remarked as she walked to the large windows in the living room dominated by a huge stone fireplace. Beyond she could see the mountains shrouded in mist.

  “I got the place for a song six years ago,” Lance said. “My friend Trey helped with the renovations.”

  She looked back at him in surprise. “You did all this… yourself?”

  “Not all of it,” he said. “But I did a lot of it. After seeing so much destruction in Iraq, it was therapeutic to come back and build something.”

  “Mr. Fix-It,” Tiffany said with a smile.

  “Something like that.” He paused. “I like fixing things, especially things that have value and beauty others overlook.”

  “We aren’t talking about houses any more, are we?”

  “No.” He walked over and took her in his arms. “You really don’t have any idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

  She looked down. “Even you have to admit I need to get in shape,” she said.

  “That doesn’t mean I want you skinny.” Lance gave her a squeeze. “You’re a perfect armful for a big man like me. But understand that while I’m loving, I can also be strict. And I don’t ever want you to lie to me again like you did today, understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Would you like to see my bedroom?”

  She nodded again, lowering her gaze and blushing as she did so.

  Lance took her hand and led her down a hallway. His bedroom, like him, was masculine, and the view from the window was equally spectacular. The wooden furniture was dark and oversized.

  He led her to the bed and sat down. “Undress for me, Tiffany.”

  The request took her by surprise. Being restrained over his lap was one thing. But undressing in front of him, seeing him see her? The thought of that terrified her.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I want to see you.” When she held her ground, he stood. “Would it help if I undressed you?”

  She nodded and Lance gently took her arms from where she’d crossed them across her chest and raised them up.

  “Don’t move, princess.”

  He lifted the shift up a
nd over her head before dropping it on the floor, leaving her standing before him in just her soft pink, lace-trimmed bra and panty set. Tiffany had her eyes trained on his shoes.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  She took a deep breath as she raised her eyes to his, expecting to see judgment and revulsion.

  “Beautiful,” he said.

  “You don’t have to say that.”

  “So you think I’m lying?” He took her hand and put it to his cock. She could feel it, large and rock hard through the denim of his jeans. “Do you think I can fake this?”

  She shook her head.

  “Curves in all the right places.” He smiled as he reached for the front clasp of the bra. As he released it, her breasts tumbled out. They were large, soft, with prominent, rose-colored areolas. They were also far from the perky, fleshy dewdrops of the smaller women Tiffany had unfavorably compared her breasts to. But Lance was lifting them now in his large hands, testing their weight as he kissed one tip and then the other, causing Tiffany to shudder and moan.

  “Perfect,” he said.

  When he reached for the waistband of her panties, however, she stayed his hand.

  “Wait?” she said.

  “Don’t be afraid, princess,” he urged. “I want to see all of you.”

  “I have… I have stretch marks,” she confided. “The doctor said it was from rapid weight gain after Nick left.”

  He stepped back then and stripped off his t-shirt, pointing to a jagged scar, the silvery streak traversing the perfect muscles of his chest and his perfect abs to end just above the waistband of his jeans.

  “We all have our marks, princess,” he said. “Yours don’t bother me if mine don’t bother you.”

  This time when he reached for the waistband of her panties, she didn’t stop him. He knelt as he lowered the undergarment to her feet and then surprised her by planting a soft kiss atop her pubic mound.

  “Step out of your panties and turn around,” he said, and Tiffany obeyed, holding her breath. She was fully exposed before him.