Big Beautiful Little

by Ava Sinclair

“I didn’t want to,” she said dismissively. “I have my own money.”

  Her back was to Lance, so she didn’t see him approach her and looked down in shock when he took hold of her arm and fixed her with a stern look.

  “It doesn’t matter that you didn’t want to,” he said. “I can afford a three-hundred-dollar shopping spree, princess. You really can’t. That’s why I told—didn’t ask, but told you—to take my card. In fact, if I recall correctly, I not only insisted on it, but had you promise me that you’d pay with my card.”

  She swallowed hard, realizing that she’d defied him.

  “What did I tell you about disobeying me, princess?”

  “I didn’t think it was disobeying to…”

  “Did I tell you to do something?”

  She looked down and nodded.

  “Did you do it?”

  “No, sir.”

  “So what do you think’s going to happen now?’

  Tiffany had not been spanked since the night they’d first had sex. It had been a painful spanking, and although she’d cried at the time, in reflection the punishment had made her feel loved and cared for. She knew from reading online that some men in a D/s or age-play relationship took any opportunity to spank their submissive partners. But Lance was very paternal in his approach to correction, and only spanked Tiffany when it was genuinely warranted. And even though a knot of fear know wound itself in her stomach, she had to admit to herself that she had disobeyed.

  She did not need to answer his rhetorical question. They both knew she was going to be spanked. Tiffany sniffled pitifully as he led her to the living room. She would not go over his knee this time. Instead, he ordered her over the arm of the leather sofa.

  “I think it’s time you became acquainted with daddy’s belt,” Lance said, and Tiffany looked back to see his large hands slowly undoing the buckle, heard the soft hiss of leather as he pulled it through the straps of his jeans. He doubled the strap, and then laid it against her back as he raised the scalloped hem of her new dress to reveal white cotton panties stretched tight across her pale bottom.

  Tiffany whimpered as she felt his fingers hook into the waistband of her panties and work them down and off. She flushed when he picked them up from the floor to hold inches from her face. She could clearly see the where the wetness had soaked them.

  “Oh,” she said, closing her eyes in embarrassment.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being aroused by your own submissive feelings, princess,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean this spanking isn’t going to hurt like hell. I consider it my job to take care of you. If there’s a time I need you to do something on your own, I’ll let you know. But if you disobey me when I’m only doing what a good daddy does—in this case buying you things you really can’t afford to buy—then it’s going to earn you a very sore bottom. Understand?”

  Tiffany looked back at him with sorrowful eyes and nodded.

  “Now spread your legs, and keep spreading until I tell you to stop,” he told her.

  Her face flamed with heat as she complied until her legs were so far apart her bottom cheeks were spread as well. She knew he could see everything: the pouch of her pussy with the inner petals glistening and engorged, visible through the sparse strawberry curls, the crinkled posy of her bottom hole just inches above.

  Tiffany felt the belt slide from where it was resting on her lower back, and caught the upswing of Lance’s arm in her peripheral vision a moment before the belt impacted with a blistering sting that took her breath away. Tiffany exhaled in a wail. The sting became a burn, and she flinched when Lance’s large hand brushed over the rectangular welt that bloomed on her white bottom.

  “That was one, princess,” he said. “Now count it, and thank your daddy, and ask for another.”

  When she hesitated, she felt the sting of his hand as it impacted the lower portion of her buttock, driving her forward on the sofa.

  “O-one,” she whimpered. “Thank you, daddy. M-m-may I have another?”

  The belt came down again, this blow overlapping the edge of the first. Tiffany broke with a childlike sob and wagged her bottom back and forth as if to escape the searing discomfort. This time she remembered to count.

  “T-wo,” she sobbed. “Th-thank you, d-daddy. M-m-may I have an-another?”

  “Good girl, princess,” he said.

  The belt fell again, lower still. The skin on the lower half of Tiffany’s buttocks was soft and sensitive and she tried to sink down to the floor, but Lance’s large hand held her in place.

  “Th-three!” Tears were soaking the couch cushion under her face. It was harder and harder to choke out the requests. “Thank y-y-you, daddy. M-may I… m-may I have… another?”

  He did not hesitate. The next blow fell across the strip of skin where her buttocks met her thighs. The sting was blinding and she fell forward, kicking her legs, not caring that her pussy was on display. Through the haze of pain, however, she was aware of the wetness on her thighs, the rhythmic pulsing in her core that seemed in such contrast to the agony of punishment.

  “You only have three more,” he said.

  “F-four,” she counted through her bawls. “Oh, daddy. It hurts…”

  He said nothing as he waited for her to collect herself.’

  “Thank you, d-daddy. May I please have another?”

  The fifth intersected the other welts. Tiffany had kept her hands in front of her up to this point but now moved to cover her bottom, but a stern rebuke from her daddy quickly had her thanking him and asking tearfully for the sixth lick of the belt.

  When it fell, she slid off the side of the couch, and wailed pitifully as she sank down onto her cupped hands. She could feel prominent welts forming under her palms. Each one seemed to throb with its own independent pulse, and she deeply regretted not letting Lance just take care of her.

  “What are you so afraid of, princess?” he asked as he sank down next to her. “Why is it so hard for you to let daddy do things for you?” He pulled her to him. “Is it because you don’t think you deserve it?”

  She nodded, sniffling miserably. “I just feel so lucky to have you,” she said. “I don’t feel like I should expect anything else.”

  Lance tilted her face up to him. “Listen to me,” he said sternly. “You need to stop thinking like this. I’m not with you out of some sense of pity or charity. I chose you as my little girl because you are a beautiful woman, Tiffany. You are no luckier than I am.” His face turned dark with anger. “If I ever get my hands on that son-of-a-bitch who made you feel so worthless…”

  “I don’t think we have to worry about him anymore,” she said. “And I have you to thank for that, too.”

  He stood, raising Tiffany to her feet with him. “Princess, no one is every going to make you feel bad about yourself again, understand?”

  She nodded, sniffling pathetically.

  “I love you, daddy,” she said, hugging him tightly. And she meant it. The feeling of intense affection that washed over her carried away the fear and vulnerability associated with such an admission. She did love him.

  “I love you, too, princess,” he said, kissing her. His hand slipped down to gently cup her sore bottom and she groaned against his mouth. “And it’s taking all my willpower to do more than just hug you right now, so I’m going to finish dinner and you’re going to go stand in the corner until I call you.”

  Lance led Tiffany to the other side of the room and instructed her to hold the hem of her dress at her sides. With her bottom on display, she’d never felt more submissive. It was as if his dominance was cocooning her in a security and peace she never knew existed.

  When Lance called her to dinner, she saw that he had placed a pillow on her chair. He’d also cut up her food again, which made her smile.

  “I have a surprise for you in the bedroom,” he told her after they cleared away the dishes.

  “Oh?” she asked.

  He took her hand and led her down the hall. When the
y entered his room, she gasped. Five adorable dresses were laid out on the bed—little girl dresses like she’d seen online, all tailored to her proportions. The childish styles were clearly for private wear, but she’d never been more touched.

  “So which one do you want to wear tomorrow when I take you to see the doctor?”

  Her face fell.

  “I can’t wear these in front of other people.”

  “Sure you can,” he said. “You’ll be meeting his wife, Fiona, and I’m sure she’ll wearing something similar. You won’t be out of place at all.”

  She smiled. “Really?”

  “Would I lie to you?”

  Tiffany teared up and hugged her daddy, not just for his generosity, but because she knew the answer to the question she’d asked. No, she thought. He would never lie to me.

  Chapter Nine: A Little Doctoring

  “You can come out now, princess.”

  Lance looked at his watch. He and Tiffany were late getting away, and she’d yet to come out of the bedroom.

  “You look adorable, princess,” Lance said when Tiffany finally summoned the courage to emerge, but the wait had been worth it. He knew dressing in the clothes he bought her would be a little scary at first; he didn’t expect to be able to immediately wash away the kind of self-consciousness that came from years of conditioning. But he also knew once she saw herself as he saw her—as the beautiful little princess she was—that she’d be one step closer to freeing the happy little girl inside.

  “Now can I look in the mirror?” she asked, and he knew she was anxious since he’d forbidden it until he could stand behind her and see her reaction. So he took her into the guest room, where he had a floor-length Cheval mirror, and stood her in front of it.

  “My perfect little girl,” he said, positioning her in front of the looking glass, and watched with satisfaction as Tiffany’s eyes widened in wonder as she took in her appearance.

  He’d gotten her measurements perfect when he’d sent them to the dressmaker. The yellow taffeta dress hugged Tiffany’s ample curves, and the crinoline under the skirt held it away from her shapely ivory thighs. With her strawberry blond pigtails, porcelain skin, and musical voice, Tiffany had been transformed into Lance’s adorable little girl. His heart swelled with pride; he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

  In the car, she fidgeted with her dress. “Do you think they’ll like me?” she asked, her voice soft and innocent.

  “They’ll love you,” he said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  They were traveling through the countryside, passing picturesque farms as they headed for John Baxter’s home. As he drove, Lance told Tiffany that John Baxter ran his medical practice out of a Victorian farmhouse. The out-of-the-way location gave clients more privacy, and Dr. Baxter had established quite a clientele.

  “This is one of the prettiest places I’ve ever seen,” Tiffany said when they finally pulled through the gate and onto the winding drive that led them to the Baxters’ home.

  “Daddy, look!” she exclaimed with wonder when they pulled closer to the house. A large playhouse stood flanked by topiary bushes shaped into teddy bears, kittens, and bunny rabbits. Nearby, swing sets and slides sat surrounded by a white picket fence. Beyond that the house loomed, its gingerbread molding giving it a fairytale appearance.

  “I’m really excited about meeting Fiona!” Tiffany said. Her excitement over meeting another little more experienced in the lifestyle had been growing since Lance had told her about the trip. But her excitement was somewhat dampened when he told her that she’d have to wait until after her doctor’s appointment.

  “But why?” she asked sulkily.

  “Because Dr. Baxter has set aside some time just for you, my dear. And he doesn’t want you distracted.” Lance scowled. “And there will be no pouting unless you want Dr. Baxter to see a red bottom.”

  “But why would he see my bottom anyway?” she asked.

  “It’s a full exam, and a cleansing,” Lance informed her. “Dr. Baxter will see everything. But you’ll need to get used to it, because regular health checks are part of being a little girl again.”

  Tiffany fell quiet, suddenly apprehensive. Lance took her small hand in his large one as he helped her from the car and led her around to a side entrance with a wood-carved sign out front that read ‘J.M. Baxter, M.D.’ Under the name was the silhouette of two women in little girl-type dresses.

  He noted that Tiffany’s grip tightened on his hand as they walked through the door, and did not let go in spite of the cheeriness of the waiting room. The large windows made for a well-lit interior. Across the room, an open toy box held dolls and other toys. Beside it, a shelf held books.

  “Why don’t you pick out a book and daddy will read to you while we wait,” Lance prompted. Just as Tiffany was picking out a Winnie-the-Pooh book, a pretty blond woman wearing a gingham print dress emerged from the door by the receptionist’s window. Her hair was arranged high on the sides of her head in two fluffy pigtails, and she carried a worn stuffed rabbit. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and with her free hand she rubbed her bottom under the short hem of her dress. Two men walked out behind her, talking. One was short and stocky with olive-colored skin. The other was tall, tanned, blond, and wore a white doctor’s coat. A stethoscope hung around his neck.

  “A shot in the bum never feels good, but the discomfort will disappear soon enough,” the doctor was saying. “And next time, I bet Sally won’t refuse to swallow a pill, will you, young lady?”

  “No, Dr. Baxter,” the blonde said.

  “Bring her back in six weeks for a follow-up, Ray,” the doctor said.

  “Will do, doc.” The man turned to the blonde. “Now let’s go home. And no pouting, or your bottom will be even sorer than it is now.”

  Dr. Baxter turned as the couple exited. “Lance!” he said, and walked over to give his friend a clap on the shoulder and a firm handshake. “How the hell have you been?”

  “I can’t complain,” Lance said with a grin. “Life is good.”

  Dr. Baxter turned to look at Tiffany, who peeked at him shyly from where she stood holding the book she’d selected.

  “So I see,” the doctor said, and knelt down as one would for a child. “You must be Tiffany,” he said.

  “Go say ‘hello’ to Dr. Baxter,” Lance urged, and Tiffany walked forward, her heart pounding.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “So, Tiffany. Your daddy’s told me a few things about you. He says this is all very new to you. How do you like being a little?”

  Tiffany glanced nervously at Lance before answering. “I like it fine,” she said. “It takes some getting used to, though.”

  “I’m sure it does, but I want you to be comfortable here. Littles are my specialty, and there’s no need to be nervous. I understand that your daddy has had you do some reading, not just on the lifestyle but on the medical aspects of your maintenance, right?”

  She nodded.

  “So you’re aware that particular care is paid to your external and internal health and cleanliness. That will be seen to today, but don’t worry. Both your daddy and I will be there to make you feel safe.”

  Her heart was pounding harder now at this allusion to the cleansings. And now Tiffany realized why she was so nervous. Her deepest, darkest fantasy was about to come to life, and not only with one gorgeous man, but with two! But she was as afraid as she was nervous. Would it hurt? Even worse, could she stand to be that exposed to not one but two men, given the insecurities she’d yet to shed?

  Even if she’d been in top shape, disrobing in front of two strange, handsome men would have been difficult. But the extra weight made her more self-conscious. Would they laugh at her?

  In the exam room, Lance seemed to have read her mind when he moved to undress her for the exam, only to watch her cross her arms over her chest.

  “Tiffany,” Lance said quietly, tipping her chin up until she was forced to meet his gaze. “Dr. Ba
xter is a professional. He has seen many littles—male and female—naked in the most intimate way. So if this is about being ashamed, don’t be.”

  He gently moved her arms down and reached for the hem of her dress. “Lift your arms, princess.”

  She did so, knowing she had no other choice and winced as her bra was removed and the air hit her breasts. She quickly covered them with her arms, feeling outrageously exposed as she stood there in just her white panties. She realized with a sudden panic that they were damp, and flushed. Now, not only would Lance be aware her shameful responses, but the doctor would know as well.

  “Up on the table, please,” Dr. Baxter was saying.

  She allowed herself to be led over and helped up on the table.

  As she sat on the edge, Dr. Baxter put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I know this is hard for you,” he said. “But as your daddy told you, all littles need regular exams to keep them healthy. But I have something here to make it easier.

  He reached over on the table and picked up a pill cup. Inside were two white tablets.

  “Is it a sedative?” she asked, eyeing the pills.

  “No.” Dr. Baxter shook his head. “It’s just something to relax you and lower your inhibitions in a way that will make this exam a lot easier. I think it will be a lot easier for you than being corrected halfway through for fighting us.”

  Tiffany regarded the pills. On one hand, the idea of being offered something that would break down her resistance offended her. On the other hand, the thought of having to endure the exam and a bare-bottom spanking mortified her. She held her hands out and accepted the pills, washing them down with a sip of water the physician provided in a small paper cup.

  “We’ll give those a couple of moments to work,” Dr. Baxter said. “In the meantime, I’m going to explain what’s going to happen. I’m going to give you a physical. But I’m also going to perform a few tests to gauge your reactions to stimuli.”

  Tiffany didn’t ask him what he meant. She was already starting to feel more relaxed from the effects of the medication as Lance moved to her side and put a soothing hand on her shoulder and Dr. Baxter examined her eyes and ears with a light and then gently palpated her neck with his fingers.