by Maren Smith
The Floreses looked at each other, worried.
I hastened to explain. “No, no! It was a good thing. I spend so much time having to be ‘on’ that, even though it hurt like heck, it was nice to not have to do anything. Somehow I knew that when we were done, I’d feel better and forgiven.”
Mrs. Flores kissed my head. “Well, you are fully and completely forgiven.”
Mr. Flores patted my leg in agreement. “But, we do need to talk about the elephant in the room now, or should I say the bear...”
I blushed.
“Adelaide, are you into age-play? Is it something you’ve ever considered or even heard of before today?”
I bit my lip. “Well, yes and no. It’s something I’ve read about online some, and played around with a bit on FetLife. But it never seems to be for me because everything I can find is so sexualized. And my craving isn’t to be Daddy’s little sex slave. I just want someone to snuggle me, maybe tuck me in at night. I guess spank my bottom if I’m bad like I was today.”
I squirmed. This was really hard to talk about. It made me feel vulnerable and kind of ashamed.
The Floreses didn’t seem ashamed at all, though. They were smiling and nodding their heads.
“That is very common, sweetheart. There are different aspects of every kink that people enjoy. There is nothing shameful about wanting to be treated in a childlike manner without having sexual expectations attached.”
Relief flooded my soul. They didn’t think I was a freak, and from the way they were talking, it felt like they were as “attracted” to me as I was to them.
“Okay. That makes sense.” I felt awkward initiating the next part of the conversation. “Since Phoebe isn’t coming... what are you doing with all the stuff?”
The Floreses smiled at each other. “Well, if you knew of any little girls who might like to come up and play when they are not working...”
I smiled. “I think I could find one. If I looked really hard.”
We all laughed.
Mr. Flores spoke first. “The only condition to coming up and playing with our toys is that while you are here, you’d have to submit to our rules and discipline. Could you do that?”
I nodded, grinning, and then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Dude! I just realized I left Francis downstairs most of the afternoon on his own. I mean, not that he hasn’t done it to me, but I should go see if he needs any help.” I jumped off of the couch. “I’ll get Francis to help me get all of your packages up here, and I’ll come back tomorrow to decorate if you want?”
“Good girl. Actually, I think we’d rather decorate with you at this point. Does that sound fun?”
I nodded happily.
“Great! What time are you off duty tonight?” Mrs. Flores asked.
“Because it’s just the two of us for the holidays, and since we have so few guests this year, we are closing the desk at eight o’clock. We are taking turns staying on property and leaving our cell phone numbers on a sign in case a guest arrives. The desk is also forwarded to our phones if any calls come in. Tonight it’s Francis’ turn to be on call.”
“Excellent. We would like to take you out to dinner and discuss the rest of our time here with you. Are you available?”
I grinned at Mr. Flores. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. We will be in the lobby at 8:30. Will that give you enough time to change for dinner?”
I worried my lip.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“Umm, what do you want me to wear to dinner? I don’t own anything fancy.”
“Whatever you like would be fine. We just assumed you would want to get out of your work clothing?”
“Oh, yeah! Thanks!” I realized if I didn’t just leave, I would never get out of there. Running toward the door, I gave a little wave and hurried downstairs.
CHAPTER SIX
I CAME DOWNSTAIRS IN a pair of skinny jeans, a baggy polka-dotted sweater I’d picked up in a thrift shop because it made me think of lollipops, and my high-top sneakers.
Mr. Flores quirked an eyebrow. “Where’s your coat and scarf and hat?”
Waving my hand, I shook my head. “Oh, I don’t need all that. I’m never cold.”
Mrs. Flores tapped my nose with her finger. “He didn’t ask if you are cold, little one, he asked where these items are.”
My eyes widened at her use of “little one” and I realized they were already behaving as if I was their little. Which was sweet. I guess.
“Umm, I have my stuff I wear skiing, but I really am just fine like this. I assumed we were staying in the village or taking an Uber.”
Mr. Flores twirled his finger and pointed to the elevator. “Your assumption on destination was correct, but clothing needed was not. March back upstairs and get suitable attire, please.”
I squinted my eyes at him.
“Oh, well if you didn’t want to go out to dinner, we could go upstairs and discuss what our rules are about being a good little girl...”
My eyes widened and my feet were moving toward the elevator before I even had time to fully process his threat. Somehow I knew that “discuss” didn’t mean a rational debate. His type of discussion was not the type that used words. Heck, no! My tummy did a flip at the threat though. I wondered if his hands were firmer at spanking than hers were.
Quickly putting on my bright pink ski coat and matching hat and scarf I hurried back downstairs.
Once I got to the lobby, I gave a sassy little dance and bow. “Is this more acceptable, my lord?”
He grinned. “‘Sir’ or ‘Uncle Antonio’ will do just fine, thank you.”
I felt warmth in my belly again. “Uncle” had such a nice ring to it. I liked it a lot.
They each took one of my hands and we walked to a restaurant I hadn’t been to yet because it was way outside of my budget. At first, I was scared that my jeans wouldn’t pass muster, but the Maître d’ didn’t blink an eye as he seated us in a quiet table toward the back.
Mr. Flores pulled out my chair first, and then Mrs. Flores’.
I slid in, nodding my thanks and glanced at the menu. Holy crap! The cost of a steak was more than I made in a day at the chalet. Scanning quickly through, I found the cheapest thing I could, a hamburger, and quietly ordered that and a glass of water when the server came past.
Mr. and Mrs. Flores glanced at each other and then Mr. Flores asked me, “Adelaide, is that what you actually prefer? Water and a plain hamburger?”
I nodded quickly.
“You don’t like soda or steak or at least cheese on your burger?” Mrs. Flores asked with a quirked eyebrow.
“I’m lactose intolerant,” I blurted out, shaking my head. “And, I don’t care for ‘fancy foods’. I grew up on burgers and fries and that’s all I really like.”
They nodded, but I could tell they weren’t buying it.
“Okay, dear,” Mrs. Flores said in a tone that conveyed her disbelief.
Changing the subject, she smiled and patted my hand. “Tell us a bit about yourself. Where are you from? What brought you to The Chalet?”
I gulped down some of my water before answering. “I grew up in Minnesota in the US, and I came here because I decided to backpack through Europe after high school. This is where I ended up when I ran out of money and the Havertys were hiring for The Chalet.”
“Doesn’t your family miss you?” Mrs. Flores asked in a worried tone.
“Nope. They didn’t notice me when I was there. I am sure they didn’t notice when I left.” I took another drink of my water, grateful that the food arriving saved me from having to make up any more about a dismal family life.
I took a large bite of my burger and gagged, spitting it out into my napkin. I’d been so nervous when I was ordering, I had forgotten to say no mustard. I absolutely hated mustard.
Mr. Flores looked alarmed. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“Umm...I don’t prefer mustard. I forgot to say plain.”
“Oh! We will get
you another one.” He waved at the server.
“No, no! It’s okay. I’ll wipe it off. I’ll be fine.” I started scraping at the top bun. Truth was mustard always saturated every bite, but I could force my way through if I scraped it well.
“I am ordering you another burger, little girl,” he said in a quietly dominant tone.
I bit my lip and didn’t argue any further. Something about the way he said it made me clench my butt.
“Okay, thank you,” I muttered, munching on my fries.
Mr. Flores had ordered some type of fish with roasted vegetables and rice. None of that interested me at all. Fish was almost up there with mustard in my book. But, Mrs. Flores had a perfect medium-rare steak, a baked potato loaded with butter and sour cream—it even had the salt on the outside making the skin a perfect crispy treat—and roasted broccoli. Broccoli was the one vegetable that I actually enjoyed. My mouth salivated as I stuffed it with dry French fries. I’m sure they were delicious fries, but it had been so long since I’d had a good steak.
I must have been obvious in my lusting over her food because Mrs. Flores sliced off a piece and held it up to my mouth.
“Open up, Adelaide,” she ordered.
I didn’t think. I just obeyed. I had to force myself to hold back an orgasmic groan as the perfect blend of seasonings and juice from the steak touched my taste buds. Closing my eyes, I reveled in the bite as long as I could.
When I opened them again, both the Floreses were looking at me with quirked eyebrows.
“I thought you did not like steak, little one,” Mr. Flores said pointedly.
“I... I thought I didn’t. I guess my tastes have changed since I’ve been here? Or maybe they just cook it differently than we did in Minnesota?” I stammered out, knowing I had been caught in another lie.
Their faces said they didn’t believe a word I was saying, but they did not push it further.
Mr. Flores flagged down the server. “Please box up the new burger and bring this young lady the steak entree exactly the way my wife had hers prepared.”
“Whoa! No! I am perfectly happy with a burger, really! Please don’t waste your money getting me an entirely new entrée!” I argued.
Mr. Flores motioned with his finger for the server to ignore me, and once the server walked away, gave me a serious look.
“I have let it slide a few times this evening, but you seem to forget that you are not in charge here, young lady. If you contradict me or your Aunt Natalie again, then I will need to remind you of your place when we return to the hotel.”
I gulped, my stomach in my throat. We hadn’t even discussed whether we were going to do anything yet, and she was already “Aunt”? I couldn’t really argue with that, though, since the moment he’d given me permission, I had started considering him as my new Uncle Antonio.
Instead I squeaked. “Yes, sir.” And then in what I hoped was a submissive tone continued, “So, if you two are in charge...what exactly does that mean? Like, you guys want me to play little girl with you when I’m not working or something?”
Mr. Flores smiled. “I guess I did put the cart before the horse with that one, didn’t I? Our intention was to ask you if you would like to be our little girl for the holidays.”
Mrs. Flores chuckled, and patted her husband's hand. “Antonio does like to jump into things with both feet. Sometimes I am left wondering where we are jumping. But, yes. We both would very much like to spoil you over the next several days and get to know you better. Would you be amenable to that?”
I nodded eagerly, realizing that I should probably hold back some of my excitement, but they had been very straightforward with me, so I wanted to be just as open back.
“I’d like that a lot. I don’t really know what that will look like with my job and stuff. Or what you guys even want in a little, but I can do anything for a week, right? Just please, please, please let me know if I am too much! I can get really excited too, and I get really giddy and obnoxious.”
I knew that I got obnoxious because my parents had told me anytime I got excited about something. I was always too loud or too open or too wild.
Mrs. Flores grabbed my hand and said warmly, “I am sure your excitement and giddiness will be a breath of fresh air to the two of us fuddy duddies. And, if there is anything in need of correcting, don’t worry, we will be quick to let you know. We already have been, right?”
She winked at me.
I blushed, remembering the paddling from earlier. “Yes, ma’am. Do you two have any expectations or hard limits I should know?”
They looked at each other surprised. “That is the question we should be asking you, but nothing that I think would be a problem with you. We will not tolerate disrespect and intentional destruction of property or physical violence toward either of us would be an immediate deal breaker. We have a number of rules we will discuss with you, but as for limits, we haven’t really established any yet. You’d be our first 24/7 little. Even if it is only for a week. What are your limits?”
“Well, I’ve never done this either. At all. I have even less experience than you two. But, my hard limits I can think of are no age-play while I am working and nothing sexual right now. I don’t think you two are even looking for sex right now, but more of a little girl, but I am just trying to be clear.”
They both nodded emphatically. “Oh definitely not. And if anything made you uncomfortable at all in that way, I’d expect you to tell us immediately, understood?”
“Yes, sir. Other than that I can’t really think of anything. I assume we will talk as stuff comes up? Do I have safe words?”
“Yes. We refuse to have any relationship that does not have some sort of safety barriers. What would you like your words to be?”
“Cruella and Maleficent. I have thought about this a lot. I’d say Cruella if I needed things to slow down and Maleficent if I needed it to stop.”
They laughed. “Those are very unique. What is the story behind them?”
“‘Cause they are the Disney villains who scared me the most as a kid.”
“Then, Cruella and Maleficent it is!” Mr. Flores said with a wink.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE SERVER SHOWED UP with my dinner, and I wondered how much he had heard. I didn’t worry about it very long though, because my meal smelled amazing. The steak was so tender I could practically cut it with my fork.
The Floreses ordered coffee and a slice of chocolate cake to share.
I felt odd that I was eating dinner while they were eating dessert, so I ate quickly. But, even trying to not waste their time, I was able to savor every bite. If it wouldn’t have been rude, I’d have licked the plate clean. It was the most perfect food I had ever eaten in my entire life.
I sat back and patted my belly.
“Thank you both. That was honestly the best food I have eaten since I moved to Europe. Maybe ever in my life. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
Mr. Flores made an exaggerated sad face. “No more room in your tummy? Then, I suppose you have no interest in their dessert menu. I’ve heard they have the best selection in the village.”
He dangled the menu in front of me.
I snatched it out of his hands, giggling.
“I can find room for dessert! Anything I want?”
They nodded.
“Hmm... I want something with a lot of chocolate. I mean chocolate on chocolate with a side of chocolate and sprinkled with chocolate shavings.”
I was going to take advantage of being a little girl for the evening and make sure I got exactly what I wanted.
Perusing the menu I grinned. “Got it! I want the chocolate volcano milkshake! It has homemade Belgian chocolate ice cream, dark chocolate sauce, and the chocolate shavings I wanted. May I get it?”
They laughed and then glanced at each other. “Yes, of course you can. Are you sure a milkshake is what you want?”
Nodding, I grinned. “Yep! Milkshakes are my favorite!”
I turned to
order my dessert, and the Floreses ordered refills on their coffees.
I turned back to them with an obnoxiously happy smile on my face, but the looks on their faces quickly wiped mine away.
My tummy twisted into knots. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew it must be something I’d done.
“What’s wrong? What did I do?”
Mrs. Flores cleared her throat. “Milkshakes are your favorite? You have them often?”
“Y-you said I could order whatever I wanted! It wasn’t even the most expensive dessert on there.”
“That isn’t the issue at all. You also did not answer my question. Do you have milkshakes often?”
I looked back and forth between them. I was so confused!
“I get them whenever I have spare money...”
They looked almost angry.
Why would milkshakes be... Shoot! I was supposed to be lactose intolerant! “I... I didn’t...”
Mr. Flores cut in. “We will discuss this back at the hotel. For now, let’s enjoy the rest of our evening.”
My stomach sank to my toes. How could I have been so stupid? Normally, I was really good at keeping my stories straight.
When the server brought my milkshake, that should have tasted like heaven, I could barely drink it.
I wasn’t really worried about what they would do. I could handle the spanking I had no doubt was coming. It was the disappointment I was sure I was causing them.
I hadn’t always fudged the truth. As a kid, I’d been incredibly honest. But the older I got, the more I’d allowed slight falsehoods to permeate my life. It was just easier to tell people what they wanted to hear.
Looking at the Floreses, I bit my lip and tried to make it better. “I’m sorry I fibbed about the lactose intolerance. I just didn’t want to cost you guys more money.”
Mr. Flores sipped his coffee. “I said we will discuss it later.”
Glancing at Mrs. Flores, I didn’t see any compassion in her gaze either.
“Well, if we are going to talk about it back at the chalet, can we just go now? I can’t focus on anything else until I make this better.”