Big Beautiful Little

by Ava Sinclair

  “You have the most beautiful, full bottom,” he said, running his hand over the expanse of one buttock. “I love the deep little dimples just above your cheeks. I’m going to enjoy spanking you for pleasure, and even for correction when you need it. But it’s always my choice, and never yours. Right, princess?”

  “Yes… sir.”

  He turned her to face him, with the backs of her legs against the bed.

  “I think it’s time you called me ‘daddy.’” He punctuated the suggestion by running a finger down her already wet slit, stopping on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her spread thighs and putting just enough pressure there to make her wriggle and whimper.

  “Yes,” she said.

  A sharp slap to her bottom as he kept the pressure on her clit caused her to yelp and then moan.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes… daddy,” she said.

  It did not feel so strange now, saying this. It did not feel wrong. It felt right. It felt good, but not as good as what he did next.

  “Daddy’s going to eat your pussy now, princess, and then he’s going to eat your bottom hole. And you’re going to hold still the entire time and not fight him. Is that clear?”

  “Oooo, yes, daddy.”

  Just his words alone had her dripping as he pushed her back on the duvet. The bed shifted and his large hands were on her hips and then….

  Tiffany never knew she could orgasm so easily, but just the pressure of his insistent mouth fastening on the bud of her clitoris pushed her over the ledge where his words alone had already placed her. She bucked back against his face, could feel his murmurs of satisfaction as he kept his oral grasp on her labia. And then his tongue was everywhere, lapping up her juices as he nibbled and suckled and laved.

  Nothing had ever felt like this; she never knew anyone could make her feel this good. Before Lance, sex was mildly enjoyable—a physical act of release with whatever man she was dating. But no man had ever touched her so completely, and she realized now that all the things she’d heard about how sex could be amazing with the right person suddenly made sense.

  He was lapping the last of her juices now, and moved down to bite first the base of one bottom cheek and then the other—just hard enough to make her cry out. His laugh was deep and throaty.

  “You’re so sweet, princess,” he said. “I could eat you up.”

  And at that moment, Tiffany felt devoured, consumed. And she reveled in it, crying out anew when he parted the soft, fleshy halves of her bottom to plumb the puckered hole with his tongue. The sensation of his mouth on her most intimate and secret of places had her pussy throbbing anew, and she cried out when one and then two fingers found their way in.

  “You’re so wet again,” he said. “And I could just eat you all night. But I think instead I’m going to fuck you. Hard.”

  She gasped at this deliciously dominant assertion and looked back to see Lance unzip his jeans and withdraw the largest, most beautiful cock she’d ever seen. It was long and thick and veiny, with a large drop of pre-cum already adorning the tip of the flared head. Tiffany was thinking how she’d like to lick that drop away when—without preamble—he thrust all the way in.

  She screamed her immediate pleasure, the sudden invasion so exquisitely unexpected that it nearly took her breath away. Even as his big cock stretched her pussy, its walls gripped him hungrily, and when he began to move slowly and deliberately, she moaned at the sensation of his fleshy length rubbing against the G-spot, driving her wild with passion as he started moving faster.

  “That’s it, my little princess,” he was saying. “Ah, I love the way you feel. You’re softness and curves and your daddy loves fucking you. In fact, your daddy may just fuck you every day from now on.”

  That was fine with Tiffany, who lost herself in the sensation of yet another orgasm. Lance was a voracious lover, and a skilled one. He allowed her to come twice more before letting go and pumping his hot seed deep inside her.

  Afterwards, he withdrew and Tiffany looked up at him through hooded eyes. Seeing him there, looming over her with his jeans resting just below his slim hips, his cock still hard even after their encounter, while she lay naked with his seed slipping from her pussy to run down her leg, was a visual representation of the power imbalance between them. Just seeing him like that made her feel helpless and small.

  “Can I get up to clean myself?” she asked, realizing that she was requesting permission—something she’d never done automatically.

  “No. Stay put.” Lance had risen from the bed now to finally remove his jeans. She watched from beneath half-lowered lashes. “Why would you want to clean yourself?”

  “Um… because I’m dirty.”

  Lance turned back.

  “What do you mean, ‘dirty’?”

  Later she would recall what she missed then—the warning in his voice.

  “We just had sex and I’m messy.”

  Lance tossed his jeans aside, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. He walked over to the bed, completely naked now. His bare chest was hairless and muscular. He reached down and ran his finger through her slit, still seeping with his cum.

  “You mean my seed? You think that’s dirty?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said, trying to rise. But it was too late. Lance had taken a seat on the bed, and before she could comprehend what was happening, he’d thrown her over his lap and started spanking her, harder even than when he’d first spanked her.

  Tiffany was howling almost immediately. His broad, large hand landed heavily and swiftly, the burn of the blows turning from sting to sizzle as she kicked and begged and pleaded through tears that now wet the duvet beneath her face. She tried to push off his lap, but he ignored her efforts and raised a knee, elevating her midsection. The blistering smacks now fell on the skin stretched taut between the lower buttocks and thighs. These were the worst, and she cried out to him that she could not take it, that she would die if he didn’t stop, that he was killing her. But he ignored her and continued to spank until Tiffany was limp over his lap.

  She sobbed quietly as she lay there, aware only of her pulsating bottom that she imagined must look like a throbbing balloon. For long minutes, Lance said nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and intense.

  “When I put my seed into you, I’m putting my claim on you. Feeling it drip from you should not make you feel shame. It is a reminder of who you belong to.”

  She groaned, understanding now.

  “My seed dripping out of you is not messy or dirty. It is my tribute, my mark. And you will wear it and only wash it away when I give you permission to. Do you understand?”

  She did, and the words he spoke thrilled her. He lifted and turned her until she was sitting on his lap, her burning bottom against his hard thigh. And she realized that she was incredibly aroused again by how he’d spanked her for his own reasons, and more aroused even by the reasoning behind the correction. He’d claimed her and he wanted her to make no mistake about what that meant. Suddenly, the slick, sticky seed seeping from her felt erotic, exciting. He pulled her into him.

  “You are mine, Tiffany. You are my little princess, understand? You are soft and beautiful and perfect. What we share is beautiful and perfect, and while I’m sure I’ll spank you for many things, I’ll always reserve the hardest punishment for when you disrespect yourself or what we have. Understand?”

  She nodded, feeling small and protected in his lap.

  “I’m sorry,” Tiffany said, her voice hitching as she sought to slow her breathing. “It’s just that when you get used to thinking a certain way, it’s hard to see yourself otherwise. I’ve never felt beautiful before. I never felt like I could be… like this.”

  “It’s going to always be like this for us,” he said. “Do you think you can handle that?”

  I will always be honest and open with daddy.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He pulled her thigh over his leg until she was straddling his
cock. It was still hard, and when he plunged into her again, she was already slick with the seed he’d forbidden her to wash away.

  Chapter Eight: Daddy’s Belt

  “Come on, princess. You can do it,” Lance urged as Tiffany struggled to do the final sit-up in her set. With the hardest portion of her exercise complete, she collapsed back on the incline bench and smiled.

  “I can’t believe I’m up to twenty-five.”

  “I can.” He helped her off the equipment and kissed the top of her head. Her brow was sweaty from exertion and he couldn’t help but feel proud of how hard she was working. And he knew she was happy to finally start seeing results.

  Lance liked her curvy body, and knew from talking to her that Tiffany had always struggled with weight. Her comfort zone was a size twelve/fourteen, and Lance told her that’s what they’d aim for. She’d not have to worry about becoming skinny, but he did want her to feel strong. And she was getting there. While she was still curvy, the thick thighs, arms, and legs he loved were starting to show some definition; her midsection was starting to tighten up as well.

  But it wasn’t just physical strength he was seeking to have Tiffany improve. He was working on her inner strength as well. Lance had never intended to move quite so fast into a sexual relationship. But damn, it felt so right and so good. In Tiffany he had exactly what he wanted—a sweet, soft woman who’d live privately as his little girl, while appreciating the demands of both their professional lives.

  It had been so easy to fall into a paternal role with her, and he was so damn turned on when she looked at him with those trusting eyes or threw her soft arms round his neck and called him ‘daddy’ when he came to see her after work. He was overcome by an urge to protect her, but also knew it was important for her to stand up for herself after her disastrous relationship from Nick, which remained a sore spot in her life.

  The morning after they’d slept together, Lance had fixed Tiffany a nice breakfast in his gourmet kitchen and then had taken her back to her rented townhouse, where he’d supported her while she contacted the finance company to explain the situation and then arranged for the repossession of the car that Nick was refusing to pay for. He’d also paid her rent and utilities, and covered her overdraft fees.

  The car had been seized the next day, apparently just as Nick and Ruth Anne were about to meet with the banker about the house they’d hoped to buy. It was Ruth Anne who called Tiffany, accusing her of taking the car just to ruin their plans.

  “We can’t work without a fucking car, you fat greedy cow!” Ruth Anne’s voice had screeched over the speakerphone on Tiffany’s desk. “And don’t think we both don’t realize this was all part of your plan to ruin things for us because we’re happy and you’re sitting there in Seattle alone eating Oreos. But guess what? We’ll find another way!” Ruth Anne was crying now. “We’ll find a way to get the car and our house and then we’re going to get married and raise the baby while you sit there fat and alone, you fucking bitch! I hope you…”

  It was Lance who had pushed the button to disconnect the call.

  “Wow. She sounds like a catch,” he’d said sarcastically.

  “She used to be my best friend.” Tiffany had begun to cry then. “I just realized sitting here that she was really my only friend. Or I thought she was. Aside from you, I’ve not really met anyone since coming to Seattle. How pathetic is that?”

  “It’s a loss for other people who haven’t had a chance to meet you,” he’d said.

  “You know a lot of people,” she’d replied, and he could hear the sadness in her voice.

  “And now you’re wondering why I’ve not introduced you. You think it’s because I’m ashamed.”

  “Are you?”

  He’d kissed her on the head. “No. I’m proud of you. But all my friends are gym rats. And most of the conversations even away from the gym involve discussions of body mass index and the latest cardio routines. But that’s what I get for not socializing with people I meet outside of work.”

  He’d pivoted the office chair she was sitting in around and wiped her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

  “However, princess, there is a couple I’m dying for you to meet. And I think you’ll enjoy their company.”

  “Really?” she’d asked with a sniff. “Who?”

  “My friend John and his wife. John and I served in the military together. After we returned stateside, I met his wife and was surprised at how closely their relationship mirrored what I wanted to have. He’s the one who introduced me to Katrina. He was very supportive of our relationship, and mentored us in a lot of ways. But he was also very understanding when we split up. He had the same frustrations with Katrina that I did.”

  “Does he know about us?”

  “Yes. I called him last week and made plans to visit with him on the weekend.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” he’d said. “But there’s something you should know about this visit. John is a doctor. In fact he’s the one who stitched me up after my mishap in Iraq. Now he’s in private practice, and he caters to a very specialized clientele—couples like us.”

  Tiffany had furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “You mean like… a pediatrician for adult littles?”

  “That’s an excellent way of putting it, princess,” he’d replied. “Dr. Baxter believes that submissives require a sort of specialized care. You’ll be getting a full physical exam, and he’ll talk to both of us about what you may need moving forward.”

  “Like what?” Tiffany’s tone had been apprehensive.

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” had been the reply.

  But with the visit looming, he knew Tiffany was still a bit concerned about what to expect. She’d been channeling her anxiety into work and the fitness regimen he dictated. It had helped. The ugliness between her and Ruth Anne was fading, and she finally felt like she was able to put her relationship with both her best friend and former lover behind her now that they had no more reason to speak. She’d gotten the paycheck from her latest commission for the Rainbow Rabbits series, and had been commissioned for the next, and had insisted on paying Lance back for bailing her out.

  She’d never been happier, and it wasn’t just because of Lance’s attention. His guidance had allowed her to see that she could be both plus size and little, submissive yet strong enough to stand up for herself. She walked a little taller, proud of her fullness.

  Now, at the gym, her workout for the day complete, Lance asked her, “So what are you going to do when you get home?”

  “Throw out all of my baggy clothes.”

  “And why is that?” When she hesitated, he prompted her. “Because I’m buying you new ones, right?”

  She sighed. “I can buy my own clothes, daddy,” she said under her breath.

  “I know. But I’ve got some specific things ordered for you to wear, and if I’m going to dress my princess, then I’m going to pay for it. Understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Now,” he continued. “What you can do is go to the mall and pick out a few things to wear for when we go out to dinner. But nothing baggy. I want to be so distracted by those curves that my only appetite is for you.”

  Tiffany flushed prettily and nodded.

  “So what would you like me to buy?”

  He smiled. “Surprise me. Ask yourself what daddy would like.”

  * * *

  Shopping with Lance in mind made the excursion more enjoyable. What would daddy like? Tiffany moved past the flowing maxi dresses to select a dark blue pleated skirt and a soft white pullover sweater with pearl buttons and a delicate Peter Pan collar.

  “You look adorable,” the salesgirl told Tiffany as she scrutinized her reflection in the tri-fold mirror. And to her surprise, she agreed.

  A dress with a fitted bodice, flared skirt, and lace edging followed, as did a set of thin knee socks and a pair of adorable Mary Jane shoes with low heels. Tiffany was lucky to hit some sales and came in well under t
he three-hundred-dollar budget Lance had given her, so she decided to splurge on an old-style Winnie-the-Pooh teddy bear. But when Tiffany arrived at the counter, she found she could not hand over Lance’s card, even though he had been emphatic that he was to pay for her purchases. Yes, he’d told her to treat herself, but he’d also ordered her some custom clothing she’d yet to see. She had a job, and her own income. Putting his card back into her purse, she handed the clerk her Visa.

  After leaving the mall, Tiffany stopped at the organic foods market for dinner ingredients. Lance had given her a key to his place a week earlier, and now she let herself in and changed into her new flouncy dress, knee socks, and Mary Janes as she set about preparing a dinner of free-range chicken, seasonal greens, and quinoa.

  Tiffany had never been more excited to see daddy than she was when he finally walked in the door that evening. Dinner was nearly ready, and his eyes lit up when she came out of the kitchen to greet him.

  “Wow,” he said, taking in her outfit.

  “Did I choose well?” Tiffany spun around, giggling.

  “You certainly did, princess.” He opened his arms and she ran to him, thrilling at the comfort of his embrace.

  “Dinner smells good,” he said, removing his keys from the pocket of his blue jeans and dropping them on the table. “So, did daddy’s princess stay in budget today?”

  “I came in under budget,” she said proudly. “And rewarded myself with a teddy bear.” She pointed to the stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh sitting on a nearby chair. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll cuddle up to both of you tonight.”

  Lance chuckled at this. “Pooh’s the only guy I’ll ever share you with.” He glanced back at her. “Do you have the receipt? I need it for my records.”

  “No, you don’t, daddy,” she said, putting plates on the table. “I didn’t use your card.”

  He stared at her for a moment before responding. “What do you mean?”

  “I used mine.”

  “Tiffany, money’s tight for you. That’s why I told you to take my card.”