by Lucy Wild
As it slowly faded and she came back to herself, she blinked, looking down at Papa to see him sliding his fingers from her. She ached for more but it was not to be. The door opened a moment later and Mama returned, carrying a dress over her arms.
Rose did her best to appear calm, not easy as her heart continued to pound, her chest heaving, a sheen of sweat covering her body. Her core was still twitching as Papa helped her to her feet. “I think you may be right,” he said. “She is ready for marriage.”
“Should we tell her parents?”
“Nothing of the sort. I have a week with her and I intend to make the most of it. After all, we want them to get their money’s worth don’t we?”
It was as if Rose wasn’t there, the conversation conducted about her, not to her. Absentmindedly, she picked up a toothbrush and began playing with it, running her fingers through the bristles whilst half listening to them talk. She felt as if she were floating high above them both, the pleasure in her body ebbing away slowly, leaving her contented but also greedy for more. She realised how she could gain more pleasure. As soon as she was alone, she could touch herself, bring herself to climax just as he had done. Yes, she might have promised not to do it, but that was before she knew just how good it could feel. He could not judge her for wanting to learn more about her body, could he? That wouldn’t be fair at all.
“Should I get her dressed?”
“In a moment. I quite like how she looks, happy and carefree wandering about naked like that. It is a shame we are so embarrassed by our bodies in this age. Look at her, a vision of innocence and beauty.”
“You’re not thinking straight, Titus. Remember, this is just a job.”
She wanted to continue listening but her mind began to wander. She couldn’t concentrate, her body was betraying her mind, calling to it, making her focus on more urgent needs. Had she always been so easily distracted? It was impossible to know. She thought about what he had just said, the words repeating again and again, she was a vision of innocence and beauty. She looked down at her body as if seeing it for the first time. Was she beautiful? It was hard to answer that. She found the sight of her shaved core intriguing, something she had not seen properly for many years, not since the hair had first grown. It had always been a site of vague embarrassment, a place not to be mentioned, to be glossed over, ignored, used only for toilet functions and nothing else. Yet he had shown her in a few short minutes just how wrong she was to think that way.
Between her legs was something to be celebrated, to be tended to, to be nurtured in the same way he was nurturing her. All she had to do was wait until night time and then she could tend to it just as much as she wanted. She knew that he would punish her if he found out so she vowed to ensure she never told him, to keep quiet so he would not hear, no one would hear. She would wait until late that night, when everyone was asleep. That way she could be sure she would be safe from the risk of punishment. As Mama slipped the dress over her shoulders, she was only half in the room, her mind was already in bed, ready to explore her sexuality in a way she had never considered before.
Chapter 12
If Rose had been thinking about things properly, she might have been embarrassed by the way the day went. But her mind was fixed on the things she was going to do when she was finally alone. So the morning conference with her parents passed her by with barely a thought. She stood before them next to Titus. She wore a frilly pink dress, a nappy in place underneath it, her legs in bright white stockings, exposed to the light as if she were an infant, not their fully grown daughter. They talked to her about who knew what. She was barely listening.
She recalled afterwards fiddling with the lace on her dress. Something about this not being proper, about looking ridiculous. Papa spoke for her, telling them she was learning fast and learning well, that by the end of the week she would be exactly the daughter they needed. She wanted to curl up in his lap as he talked, he was so clever with his words, so talented at making them understand why he was doing this, that he was helping her, that he was helping them.
She walked out in the grounds with Mama in the afternoon, learning the names of the plants in the walled garden, knowledge that left her head almost at once. “You may need to know such things for when you grow up,” was Mama’s answer when she asked why she was being given so much information.
Glad to return to the house, she had dinner in Mama’s room, another bottle of that sweet and creamy warm milk that she had quickly grown to love. Afterwards, her need for the toilet grew as if from nowhere. She did not want to wet the nappy again. Having done it once already, the sensation was one she was certain she would never get used to. But Mama insisted, the threat of a spanking enough to scare her into going that way again.
It felt so strange, letting go whilst not sitting on a toilet or a chamber pot. To expect it to run down her legs but for it to instead soak into the cloth, the heat of it pressing into her skin as the cloth began to sag with weight. It was the oddest sensation, making her feel far younger than her years. The cloth chafed her skin for some time before Mama changed her, taking her off to bed afterwards. “You sleep well,” Mama said, kissing her forehead as she tucked her in.
Rose sighed with relief as the door closed and she was left alone in the dark. Almost at once, her hands went to the nappy, untying the knots and tugging the cloth away from between her legs. She was in a thin nightgown and with a last glance at the door to make sure it was closed, she slid her hands down her chest, feeling her nipples stiffen under her touch. How had she never wanted to play with them before? To tug and squeeze them sent shivers of pleasure through her in such a simple way, how had she never realised?
Her hands went lower, finding the bottom of her nightgown and wriggling it up her body. She stroked the skin of her breasts, groping and caressing the globes of flesh, feeling her core coming to life, ready for her, ready for him.
Her mind went to Titus as she slid her fingers down to the shaved skin above her core. She stroked her thighs whilst picturing his hands doing the same, his face between her legs, his tongue gliding over her. She began to breathe more heavily as she shifted on the bed, moving her knees apart, her fingers seeking out the nub he had so expertly tended to.
She found it a moment later and when she brushed over it, she could not resist letting out a little moan. Closing her eyes, she explored the sensitive spot, finding which ways brought pleasure and which did nothing for her. Two fingers either side of it and rubbing in a scissor motion almost made her scream for joy, pressing too hard did nothing. Slowly, she began to focus on the motions that brought most pleasure. Using wetness that gathered at her entrance, she rubbed softly in a circle, using two fingers on her nub and the palm of her hand pressing down above it, teasing the nerve endings that wanted something heavier there, the weight of him perhaps, the bulk of his body pressing into her instead of just her hand.
She didn’t hear the sound of the door opening until it was too late. The familiar sense of her body tensing up had arrived and she was concentrating on pushing herself over the edge. By the time she opened her eyes and saw him looming over her, candle in hand, he was already furious. The climax that was about to arrive vanished in an instant, leaving her both frustrated and scared by the intrusion into her room.
“What are you doing?” Papa asked, not waiting for an answer. “I told you not to touch yourself, didn’t I?” He spoke in a bare whisper but the sound was more terrifying than if he had screamed the words. She felt so scared, she could not even move her hands away.
“I’m not doing anything,” she managed to reply as he set the candle down on the bedside table.
“Lies upon deceit,” he growled, grabbing her bedcovers and yanking them down. “Do you not think I know the sounds of your body by now? Do you take me for an imbecile?”
“I…I am sorry, Papa.”
“Not as sorry as you will be. Get on all fours and do not move a muscle.”
“Yes, Papa.”
; Her body was still tingling from her touch as she sat up in bed, turning over to kneel on all fours, her posterior pointing towards her Papa. As she waited for the inevitable, her ears went haywire, hearing every sound with an intensity she’d not known before. Floorboards creaked as he moved behind her, the clock in the hallway downstairs seemed to tick so loudly it was a wonder the windows didn’t rattle. Her own heartbeat was loud enough to make her think she must be dying. All the while, nothing happened at all.
“You have let me down,” Papa said at last, his voice still a low whisper. “I am disappointed in you, Rose.”
“I am sorry, Papa. I will not do it again.”
“I think not, especially not after I remind you of the consequences of disobeying me.”
She did not know what hit her, not at first. All she knew was that it wasn’t his hand. When the object struck her behind, it was a sharp pain totally unlike the spanking she had undergone. It seemed to bite into her skin but in a much smaller area, an intense heat to the pain that she could not define. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw that Papa was brandishing a riding crop. She had time to see it whip through the air again and then it struck her once more.
“Ow, that hurts!” she cried out, the pain making her feel faint.
“Less noise,” Papa said, shoving a dummy into her mouth, tying it in place with the ribbon. “Wouldn’t want to wake the household now, would we?”
The crop struck her again and Rose screamed into the dummy, the sound muffled and faint, as if coming from a long distance away.
“To think I came in to kiss you goodnight and read you a story. For shame.” The crop whipped through the air again, the pain of it hitting her making her legs buckle. She almost fell but managed to remain in place, determined not to let him down again. “You will not touch yourself without permission, is that clear?”
Rose nodded in response, a tear running down her cheek as the crop descended again and again.
“Your pleasure comes from those in charge of your life,” he said, pausing for a moment to lecture her. “It is for me and your Mama to decide when you shall have pleasure, not you. You don’t get to pick and choose which elements of your life to give up to the grown ups. We are in charge. You are little; you do as you are told. Is that understood?”
She nodded again, letting out a quiet yelp as instead of the crop, the gentle touch of his palm brushed over her posterior. “Good, little Rose,” he said, his lips kissing her buttocks a moment later. “You will soon learn.”
As he kissed her bottom again, Rose shuddered. The blows from the crop had brought every nerve ending in her posterior to life and the feel of his lips on her was intensified by the heat passing deep inside her at that moment. “You think you want to be a grown up big girl who can touch herself?” Titus said, turning her round and lifting her to the floor, standing her up in front of him. “Big girls are expected to do things that little girls are not, do you know what they are?”
Rose shook her head, unable to speak through the dummy.
“Then I shall show you. Get on your knees.”
Chapter 13
Titus looked down at the vision of perfection knelt before him. Those ocean blue eyes blinking in the candlelight, the glow of her skin, the sheer sense of life emanating from her, it was enough to make his heart soar. The anger he had felt when finding her touching herself had already faded. She had accepted her punishment without complaint, the crop he had hidden under her bed was laid on the floor next to her, making him think of the sight of her reddening posterior as he landed one blow after another.
All the while, he had glanced at the pink sheen of her glistening wet hole, the signs of her arousal all too evident. He could wait no longer to show her how he felt. He had to do it now, whilst his nerve held. He reached down and untied the dummy, letting her gasp for air, her jaw working up and down as he began to undo the fly of his trousers. Reaching inside, he brought out his member, watching her eyes widen as she stared hungrily at it.
“Grown ups get to do this,” he said, taking hold of her chin and forcing her mouth open. He pushed the tip of himself to her lips, gratified to see her grimace slightly, a sign she had not done this before. But as she smelt him, her reservations faded and her lips parted enough for him to push himself into her mouth. The soft wetness of her tongue was enough to stiffen him so much his shaft ached. He filled her mouth whilst staring down at her. “Do not move a muscle,” he added. “I’m going to fuck your face, your pretty little face. Your mouth is full of my cock, you dirty little Rose.”
He pulled back and as he did so, he grabbed hold of her head, his fingers pushing through her hair to take a firm grip. With a slight intake of breath, he thrust as far into her mouth as he could, watching her gag on his length. He filled her throat, holding himself in her whilst watching her nostrils flare. He counted out ten seconds before pulling back, letting her take a single gasping breath before sliding back in, this time thrusting hard back and forth, keeping her head in place with his hands.
The feel of her lips along the length of him as he thrust inside was like nothing he had ever known. Never before had it felt this good. There was something about her that was so different to any other woman he’d known. There had to be, he had never in his life done this to one of his students. The conflict of interest was simply too great. But there was something irresistible about her.
Saliva ran down her chin, his shaft glistening with wetness as he pulled back, rubbing himself around her face, making her his, sullying her skin with the drips emerging from the tip of his member. He pushed back into her mouth again and again, watching as she remained totally still on her knees, letting him do it. That was the best part, he realised a moment later. She was willing to let him use her when they had not even kissed yet. She was so obedient; she was allowing him to do something this obscene. His mind whirled as he wondered what else she might allow.
“Look at me,” he said, staring down at her. She did as he asked, staring up at him as he thrust faster and harder into her mouth, feeling his member twitch in readiness. “I’m going to come in your mouth.”
Rose’s expression changed, a mixture of fear and excitement crossing her features as he let her take a deep breath before plunging into her mouth again, moving as fast as he dared, the end of his member bursting into life. He felt his climax deep inside him before it spread along his shaft, sending his thick hot seed gushing into the back of her throat. He slid back slowly, thrusting in again as a second load of his seed coated her tongue, filling her mouth. She continued to stare up at him as he withdrew, a last splash coating her lips. She licked it away with her tongue and he knew in that moment that he wanted her all for himself, more than that, he needed her.
“Onto the bed,” he growled, almost throwing her onto her back. He was between her legs in seconds, his fingers straight into her wetness, his tongue on her clit. She tasted sweet, a divine scent assailing his nostrils as he licked her nub, listening to her moan quietly above him. His fingers moved ever faster in and out, her insides gripping him tightly as he brought her expertly in orgasm in under a minute, the heat of her desire making it effortless work. When her climax hit, her legs squeezed his head, holding him in place for seconds on end before she fell back, sated at last.
She was still recovering as he stood up. He took hold of her and dragged her up to the pillows, setting her down a moment later. He kissed her forehead as her eyes closed. By the time he had tucked the blankets in around her, she was already asleep. “Goodnight, little Rose,” he said from the doorway, candle in hand.
As he crossed the hallway to his own bedroom, something occurred to him. He didn’t desire her so much in spite of her acting little, he desired her because of it. She was so willing to submit to him, to do whatever he asked. He climbed into bed with a spark of sadness growing inside him. For all the world, he wanted her to stay little, to remain this obedient to him, to be his little Rose. The sadness that grew as he waited for sleep to take h
im, he thought he could do nothing about.
His job required him to make her grow up. He had never failed a student yet, he had never left a job unfinished, he had never disappointed a parent. Yet, with Rose, for him to do his job would mean losing her. It would mean letting go of little Rose forever.
He slept a troubled sleep that night, the sleep of a man in turmoil, a man conflicted between what his heart desired and what his head knew was required.
Chapter 14
“Rose, your friends are here.”
Rose froze at the sound of her mother’s voice. She was in her bedroom, playing with the dolls Papa had left her. He’d been gone all morning, warning her he might not be back until late. To assuage her anxiety about being left without him, he’d provided her with some of the dolls from his office playroom, leaving her to recreate the tea party she had made there, an activity that had kept her occupied until her mother’s voice interrupted her a little after one in the afternoon.
She had completely forgotten about Geraldine, Enid, and Amelia. They had arranged to visit to discuss her adventure with Jonathan, something she had refused to think about since the night it happened. She had returned that night to find them asleep and she’d been able to distract them enough the next morning so that they left without knowing what really happened to her. “We’ll be back,” they had warned as they climbed into their carriage. Back they were, though they could go hang. They could not see her like this.
Rose looked down at herself. She was in a white silk dress with a red bow across her chest. Her nappy bulged absurdly under it, there was no way of keeping it hidden from view. Her hair was in pigtails, her stockings sheer, her feet in plain black Mary Jane shoes no adult would be seen wearing, not with red bows topping them both to match her dress. She could not even change into more appropriate attire, Mama had removed all her clothes from the room, replacing them with ones approved by Papa. Not one of them was suitable for entertaining her friends.