I considered it for a minute. “No, not quite as much, I don’t think.”
“Very well then, you are my little mishka and I am your Papa. Will this do, do you think?”
“I think so.” I sighed. “This is just so weird, Salt. I mean, we’ve had some strange cases before but this…”
“This is just another assignment,” he said calmly.
“Easy for you to say. You get to wear a suit,” I pointed out. “I’m probably going to be wearing Hello Kitty panties and pigtails.”
He frowned. “It should not matter what kind of panties you wear as no one will be seeing them.”
“You’re going to be a strict Papa then?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him jokingly. “You’re going to pull down my Hello Kitty panties and spank me if I’m bad?”
“If I have to,” Salt rumbled and I suddenly realized he wasn’t joking.
“Hey.” I frowned at him. “I thought you told the Captain you wouldn’t beat me because I was too ‘delicate.’”
“I would not beat you with a belt as I was beaten as a child, no of course not,” Salt said. “But a spanking by hand…”
“Is not going to happen,” I said firmly. “And you never told me your dad beat you with a belt.”
Salt looked suddenly guarded. “It was not something you needed to know. Some things are best forgotten.”
Well, I certainly knew how he felt. I would be happy to forget my whole childhood if it came to that.
“I don’t know,” I began but just then Salt’s doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” I said and went for the door.
Professor Stevens was standing just outside the doorway with a drycleaner’s bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
“Hi,” he said, smiling broadly. “I thought maybe we got off on the wrong foot earlier so I’d like to make amends and start fresh.” He handed me the bottle which looked like a pretty decent red.
“Thanks.” I stepped aside to let him in. “And I’m sorry if I was what Salt calls ‘prickly’ earlier. I’m just not really thrilled about this assignment.”
“I understand,” he said quickly, following me into the kitchen. “It’s a lot to take in if you’re not already into kink.”
“Well, I’m not,” I said bluntly. “I can’t speak for Salt, here, but I know for myself, I’m about as vanilla as they come.”
“Vanilla?” Salt asked, frowning.
“Non-kinky,” I explained. “Not into whips and chains and spanking—that kind of thing.”
“Ah.” He nodded.
Stevens frowned. “Well, you don’t have to worry about whips and chains at the Institute but paddles and hairbrushes is another story entirely. A big part of the Daddy/Babygirl dynamic is discipline.”
“What? Are you serious? Salt might have to…to spank me for real?” I felt a strange little quiver in my belly as I said it and I couldn’t look at my partner. “But that’s crazy.”
“No, that’s part of the Big/Little relationship,” Stevens said matter-of-factly. “The stern Daddy corrects his wayward little girl and them comforts her afterwards. Look, why don’t we eat and then I can tell you a little more about it.”
“Please…” Salt indicated a seat for him at the end of the rectangular table. He himself took the other end and I sat at his right hand. It was how we always sat when we ate together. I liked being able to have a good conversation with my partner without shouting. Salt was already so tall I felt like I was talking up to him half the time so it made sense to sit closer.
I served out the soup and sandwiches, playing the little woman, and Salt decanted and poured out the wine Stevens had brought. We ate in silence for a few minutes until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Okay, let’s stop beating around the bush,” I said to Stevens. “Tell us what we can expect.”
“I’ll tell you what you can’t expect,” he said grimly. “You can’t expect to go into the Institute and shoot off your mouth to your Daddy without arousing suspicion. You can’t talk to him the way you were talking to your Captain during your briefing.”
“Shoot off my mouth?” I put my soup spoon down and raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you really just say that to me?”
Salt had also lowered his spoon and there was a murderous glint in his pale blue eyes.
“You will respect my partner,” he said in a low growl. “Or there will be consequences.” It was about as much of a warning as he ever gave.
Stevens paled a little but held his ground.
“I’m just telling you that a slave—a Babygirl in this case—can’t talk so freely to her Master or Daddy without being seen as a ‘brat.’ And unless you’re looking for a punishment, bratting will get you into big trouble.”
“Bratting?” I shook my head. “What the hell is that?”
“Speaking out too freely to your Daddy—sassing is the term they use at the Institute. Among other things,” Stevens said. “Being sassy to your Daddy or other Bigs will earn you a reputation you don’t want.”
I put a hand on my hip. “In other words, don’t speak my opinion. Just shut up like a good little girl and do what Daddy tells me.”
“Essentially, yes.” The professor nodded.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said, frowning. “This is ridiculous. How can any self-respecting woman even consider going to this place?”
“Believe it or not, many of the Babygirls you’re going to meet are savvy businesswomen. Some are even Doctors, lawyers, CEOs—and I’m sure all of them would identify as feminists,” Stevens told me. “They’re at the Institute because it allows them to explore a side of themselves they’ve kept hidden and locked away for years. It’s a place of safety for them—a place where they can regress to a simpler time when the weight of the world wasn’t on their shoulders.”
“If you say so.” I shook my head again. “But I honestly can’t see it.” I pushed my plate away. “I’ve lost my appetite. Could you please just show me the costumes I’m going to have to wear?” Might as well get all the bad stuff out of the way.
“Of course.” Stevens pushed away his own half eaten sandwich and nodded at me. “If you’d like to come into the other room?”
I followed him back to the living room, where he’d left the drycleaning bag and Salt came as well, like a silent, ominous mountain at my back.
“Now,” Stevens said, opening the bag. “I have several choices for you. And it all depends on what age you want to regress to.”
“Seriously? I have to pick a certain age?”
“Makes sense,” Salt said, surprising me. “Is necessary to know the age to tell what mannerisms to use.”
“I guess so,” I grumbled. “Well, show me what you’ve got and tell me what age it goes with.”
“All right. Well, starting from the bottom…” Stevens pulled out a pink ruffled jumpsuit that looked like something a young girl would wear except it was in my size.
“Eww!” I protested. “Tell me again how this isn’t about pedophilia, Stevens? Because how can it not be when you want me to wear something like that?”
“It has nothing to do with pedophilia because the Age Players are not interested in children—only each other,” he explained patiently. “Regressing to this age allows the Babygirl to be almost completely nonverbal. She’ll get naps, have bottles, and be rocked to sleep by her Daddy. Being held in the strong, warm arms of a man who loves her and will never hurt her—there’s nothing sexual about that. It’s all about comfort.”
“Still,” I said. “I’m not wearing that. Option number two, please.”
“Nope,” I said at once. “Still too young. God, this is gross.”
“Consider it before you turn it down,” Stevens urged. “At this age, you get to be Daddy’s little princess. You’ll sit on his lap a lot and be taken out to the zoo and the park and any Disney movies that might be playing. Your Daddy will cut up your meat for you at dinner and check under the bed for monsters before tucking you in. It’s rather nice, actually.”
“Rather sick, you mean,” I said. “No. I’m not doing that age.”
“All right…” He sighed. “Well, I do have one more option for you, Detective Sugarbaker. Here.”
The last outfit he pulled out looked like a school uniform with a white blouse and a short—a very short—red and black plaid skirt.
“At this age,” Stevens said. “You’re a rebellious tween or teenager. Actually…” He looked thoughtful. “This might be the best age for you to play. Sassing and bratting would be almost expected—it would fit your, ah, personality nicely.”
“If you’re trying to say I’m a bitch because I speak my mind, save it,” I said shortly. “I know exactly what most of the guys at the PD think of me and I don’t give a good Goddamn.”
“No, I was just saying—”
“Whatever.” I waved his halfhearted protests aside. “Look, don’t you have anything between Daddy’s Little Princess and Slutty Schoolgirl?”
“I’m afraid not,” Stevens said apologetically. “Did you have another age in mind to regress to? If so, I can try to find—”
“This one.” Salt pointed to the plaid skirt and white blouse combo. “This one will fit you the best, Andi.”
Somehow I knew he wasn’t just talking about the size.
“All right, fine,” I said, grabbing it from Stevens’ hands. “I’ll wear it.”
“Try it on first,” the professor said. “You need to get used to wearing it and practice the mannerisms that go with it.”
“Seriously? Okay, fine.” I sighed.
“Use my bedroom,” Salt said. “You know where it is.”
“Sure.” I had only been in there once or twice—as I said, things are strictly non-sexual between me and my partner—but I knew my way. I lay the kinky school girl getup on Salt’s neatly made up bed and started shrugging out of my own clothes.
I soon found that the outfit was even worse than I’d anticipated. The short plaid skirt barely covered my panties and the white blouse was practically see-through. Thank goodness I had on my best white lace bra! If I hadn’t been wearing one, I would have flashed everyone in the semi-transparent blouse. White knee socks came with the outfit and I could imagine that a pair of Mary Janes would complete it.
When I had it all on, I stood in front of Salt’s wooden bureau and stared at myself in the attached mirror. Was I really going out in this? I’ve never been the kind to indulge in sexy clothes. I only have B-cup breasts and the rest of me is just so small and plain it seems like a waste.
But in this outfit I looked…different. My long, brown hair fell around my shoulders in soft waves and my eyes looked wide and brown and Bambi-like. I was sensual…tempting. I looked like a woman who might put on this outfit for the specific purpose of seducing her man. Only who would I seduce?
I was still standing there, staring, when I heard a soft rapping at the door.
“Andi? Are you all right?” Salt asked.
“Fine,” I called quickly. “Just…coming out right now.”
“I’ll give you time,” he said and I heard him leaving.
I went to the door and stood there with my hand on the knob. I was reluctant to let the two men see me in the ridiculous get up but I reminded myself that soon a lot of strangers would be seeing me in it. Stevens was right—I needed to get used to it.
I stepped out of the bedroom door and went to stand in front of Salt, who was sitting in an armchair in the living room.
“Well…” I held out my arms and twirled around. “What do you think…Papa?”
Salt gave me an appraising look from those ice blue eyes of his and frowned.
“You were right, Andi. Is too ‘slutty.’”
“Thank you,” I said and turned to Stevens. “See? I told you!”
“Actually…” He cleared his throat. “It’s not slutty enough—not for the Institute.”
“What?” I demanded. “But you said Age Play wasn’t sexual!”
“I said it doesn’t have to be sexual,” he pointed out. “Not that it never gets sexual—it often does. And if you’re going to regress to this age, you have to expect it to go there, at least a little.”
“I will not,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Just being dressed like this is plenty sexual enough. The skirt barely covers my ass and you can see my bra through this damn blouse!”
“About that…” Stevens cleared his throat apologetically. “You’ll probably want to take that off if you’re going to fit in with the other Littles. The bra, I mean.”
“No!” Salt was glaring at him now. “No, Andi is not going to bare her breasts for everyone to see. There are limits.”
“Not at the Institute,” Stevens said bluntly. “Do you want your mission to fail before you get three feet past the front doors?”
“No,” I said. “But I don’t see why it’s necessary.”
“You’re teasing your Master—your Daddy,” Stevens explained. “The more skin you show, the better. Like a spoiled teenager trying to get out of the house wearing inappropriate clothing and make-up. That kind of thing. Besides…” He looked at Salt. “You can always let the other Daddies there know that your Babygirl is strictly off limits. Tell them she plays only with you—they can look but don’t touch.”
“But I do not want other men looking at my partner.” Salt’s pale blue gaze traveled up and down my body, making my cheeks feel hot.
“Yes, you do,” Stevens said grimly. “You want to catch the attention of the man who’s manufacturing and selling Please. The best way to do that is to have the sexiest Babygirl there.”
“Well then we’ve failed before we started,” I said flatly. “Because sexy is one thing I am not.”
“Is not true, Andi,” Salt said quietly and I thought his deep voice was a little hoarse. “Not true at all.”
“Umm…” Once more, I didn’t know what to say. “I’m glad you like the outfit,” I said at last, lamely.
“No, no!” Stevens exclaimed, shaking his head. “Your Daddy just gave you a compliment, my dear! He’s showing interest in you—giving you attention you desperately crave. You want more of that—so flirt with him! Play it up!”
“Flirt?” I looked at him blankly. I’d spent most of my professional life being as non—flirty as possible. People don’t take you seriously if you’re too flirty and girly—especially at the PD. I teased around with Salt on occasion but only when we were alone.
“Just try it,” Stevens urged. “This is your Daddy we’re talking about—you love him and you want to please him more than anything else in the world.”
“Geeze,” I muttered. “Okay, here goes.” I cocked my head to one side and looked up at Salt coquettishly from under my lashes. “I’m glad you like my outfit, Papa. I wore it just for you,” I said in a high, breathy voice.
Stevens nodded. “Yes, that’s better. Now Detective Salt, you respond.”
“You look beautiful, my little mishka,” Salt rumbled softly. “So beautiful it makes your Papa ache to look at you.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat. I knew we were just playing roles but still…
“Very good.” Stevens nodded again. “He’s giving you clear signals, Detective Sugarbaker. So go over and sit in your Daddy’s lap.”
“What?” I hesitated uneasily. “I thought that kind of thing was if I was playing a younger age.”
“That kind of thing, as you put it, is universal. No matter what age you’re playing, a Babygirl always wants to sit in her Daddy’s lap.”
“Okay, well…” I was still hesitating so Salt patted his knees.
“Come on, Andi. You know I do not bite.”
“Fine.” I walked across to Salt and perched gingerly on one of his knees. “There. Satisfied?”
“No.” Stevens frowned. “Listen, Detectives, I don’t think either one of you is quite grasping the concept here.” He looked at me. “This man is your protector—your guardian…your disciplinarian…your everything. He will kill or die to protect you and you adore him for that.”
“I do?” I asked.
Salt nodded. “Makes sense. I would kill or die to protect Andi.”
“You would?” I turned my head to look at Salt more fully. He met my eyes without hesitation.
“You know I would, Andi,” he said softly. “On this there can be no question.”
“Well, you’re already doing a good job of acting protective, Detective Salt,” Stevens said. “But you, Detective Sugarbaker, need to ramp up your game.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to hold on to my temper. “Tell me how since you’re the kink expert.”
“You can start by snuggling into your Daddy’s lap like a real Babygirl would,” Stevens said, frowning. “You want to get a close as possible because in his arms is where you find comfort, love, protection from the big, bad outside world. In his arms is where you feel safe.”
I looked back at Salt who shrugged and opened his arms to me—a silent invitation.
I scooted back on his lap until my back was touching his chest but I couldn’t quite allow myself to relax. It felt strange, being held this way. In fact, the last time I could remember sitting on someone’s lap was before my own father took off when I was around nine.
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