Choosing Kellen

by Becca Jameson

  “Yes, Sir.” I fold my hands in front of me, finding that I like being this close to him. His large hands feel nice on my hips. It’s amazing how I already feel a bit young and cared for. It unnerves me a little the more I recognize how much I like it. The last few nights at Abby’s, I’ve dreamed of this day, tossing and turning with what can only be described as lust. Even in my sleep I find myself drawn to try out this life as a little.

  “The reason I’ve invited you to my home for this trial period is because I’ve watched you enough to believe you’re titillated by the idea of being taken care of. My job is to feed that need. By the end of the day, I intend to have seen every inch of your sweet body and made you writhe with pleasure.”

  I shudder, feeling the pink rise over my cheeks. It’s hard to hold his gaze. His blunt words have shocked me. At the same time, I’m aroused. I’ve wondered when or if he might touch me sexually. Apparently, he isn’t planning to waste any time.

  “Each day, I expect you to wear everything in the drawer you choose and nothing more. You’ll pull your hair back according to your age. Pigtails or braids through age eight. You may use one ponytail for ages ten and twelve if you’d like. Do you have pubic hair right now, Sabine?”

  The flush on my face switches to a full-blown deep red heat. “Yes, Sir. I have removed it in the past, but not recently.”

  “You’ll keep your pussy completely bare at all times. There’s a hair-removal cream in your bathroom. It’s gentle for sensitive skin.”

  I nod, unable to breathe. This discussion is so clinical. On top of that, my nipples are hard pebbles under my bra.

  “I’ve cut back on my hours for the next two weeks so that I can be available to guide you most of the time. There will be times I need to work for a few hours in my office, but I’ll make sure you’re occupied.” My head spins at how he changes the subject abruptly as if switching from coloring books to puzzles instead of the state of my pubic hair to his work hours. “Questions?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet, Sir.”

  He pats my hips. “Good girl. I’m going to head down to the kitchen and fix you some lunch while you take a bath and then make your selection. I’ll expect you in half an hour. Understood?” He points at a clock on the wall over the bookshelf. It’s eleven-thirty.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Master Kellen eases me back a few feet as he rises and then he releases my hips and cups my chin, angling my face up to his. “One more thing before I go. I want you to get everything you need out of this arrangement. During the next two weeks, I want you to focus solely on your personal growth. Though I will frequently explore your body, my clothes will remain on at all times. We won’t be having sex.”

  I swallow. I’ve been so preoccupied worrying about this entire experiment that I honestly haven’t thought much about sex, but for some reason, I find myself disappointed. It’s been a while since I last had sex. Over a year, actually. The thought of having Master Kellen between my legs does not turn me off in the least. Too bad he’s just put the kibosh on that idea.

  Master Kellen squeezes my chin and then leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  For long moments I stand rooted to my spot, trying to remember how my legs work and shaking at the overwhelming prospect of choosing one of those drawers to open.

  I wonder what would happen if I opened others? The naughty side of me is tempted. How would he ever know? Are they booby-trapped or something? What if I open one and decide I’d rather slam it shut and go for another? I glance around the room, lifting my gaze to the top of the walls as I scan along the crown molding. Presto. I have my answer. There’s a camera in one corner of the room. That answers that question.

  I jerk my gaze to the dresser and pad toward it. It seems reasonable that I might start in the middle somewhere, so I choose the drawer with a six on it and pull it open slowly.

  For a moment I stare at the contents, my fingers still on the drawer. I draw in a deep breath slowly. Every moment I’m in Master Kellen’s home, things get more real. It doesn’t get much more real than this.

  With shaky fingers, I lift out the brightly colored dress. It’s a soft cotton material. Dark pink with white polka dots on the bodice and a loose skirt covered with yellow, pink, and purple flowers. It’s very short. The sleeves are thin straps with a ruffle around the top that will lift on my shoulders. The same ruffle of pink material lines the bottom of the skirt. It’s very feminine. Very girly. Very youthful.

  I take a deep breath as I reach back into the drawer and pull out a pair of panties. They are lime green cotton with monkeys on them. I wonder if Master Kellen intentionally chose them to be in such stark contrast to the dress so that he might glimpse them. I shift my gaze to a pair of hot pink sneakers and white socks that fold down at the ankle with a lacy ruffle. Lastly, there are two pink ribbons that match the shade of the dress and the shoes.

  Honestly, I was never a very girly girl. I didn’t wear dresses very often by the time I reached an age when I could easily exert my preference and defy anyone who tried to tell me what to do. I had a nanny when I was six. Several of them, actually. They never lasted very long. Probably because I thwarted every effort they made to control me. Perhaps if they had offered me boring shorts and T-shirts I would have insisted on frilly dresses and light-up shoes.

  Since most people assumed as a girl, I would like ruffles and sparkles, I dug my heels in and turned down their selections. I didn’t really have much of a style of my own until high school when I started choosing everything I wore from the store.

  I’m shaking as I gather all of this in my arms and hurry toward the bathroom. I drop it all on the counter and then glance around. The bathtub has several bottles along the ledge, and even though I already took a shower this morning, I strip down, pile my hair up on my head with the band around my wrist, and step into the tub without turning on the water.

  I haven’t taken a bath in years. I prefer showers. I suspect Master Kellen intends for me to take baths or he would have included a shower curtain. Or perhaps he forgot to install one. I’ll ask him.

  For now, I have no other choice. The first thing I grab from the ledge is the pink aerosol bottle labeled for hair removal. I read the back of the can and then sit on the edge of the tub, lifting one leg to set my heel on the porcelain. I squirt a generous portion on my hand. It foams up and I quickly spread it between my legs. When I’m sure I’ve covered my entire private parts all the way back to my tight hole, I reach over and turn on the spout to wash my hands off. I don’t want the hair removal on my fingers any longer than a few moments.

  I wait impatiently for five minutes while the foam starts to tingle. As I examine the other bottles along the tub’s ledge, I swallow. All of them are pink. Baby bath. Baby shampoo. Baby lotion. The only thing not meant for a baby is the bottle of conditioner. At least Master Kellen is sharp enough to realize I would never get a comb through my hair if I didn’t use conditioner.

  When it seems like five minutes have gone by, I turn the water on, wait a moment for it to heat up, and then lower myself onto my butt under the spout, legs spread so that the water sluices over my pussy. I want the hair remover to go straight down the drain, and I wait for the water to run clear before I put the stopper in the tub and scoot back.

  I’ve shaved before. I’ve even waxed. I’m not opposed to having a bare pussy. I’ve enjoyed the sensation in the past. But today it feels different. It’s a reminder that I’m playing the role of a young girl. My maximum age is twelve. I didn’t have pubic hair yet at age twelve.

  I’m not sure how long it’s been, but I also don’t think half an hour was enough time for me to accomplish Master Kellen’s tasks. He’s going to have to chill if I’m a few minutes late. Surely he won’t punish me on my first day here.

  I reach for the baby soap because it’s my only option. I’m not the least bit dirty, but it occurs to me that if I don’t wash my body, Master Kellen will know. I’ll smell like the laven
der body wash I used at Abby’s house before I came.

  My hair is another story. I for sure can’t possibly wash it, dry it, and get downstairs in thirty minutes. Plus, I washed it last night. It would get very frizzy if I washed it again.

  As I run my hands over my breasts, my nipples stiffen. I’m not sure my reaction to all this is warranted. I feel foolish. Who makes this kind of choice at twenty-four years old? Submitting to someone at the club for an hour is one thing. Diving into a twenty-four-seven arrangement feels over-the-top. But committing to live full time as a child is making me nervous. Or perhaps what unnerves me more is my reaction to this decision.

  As I wash carefully between my legs, ensuring I get all the hair removal off my skin, my own wetness gathers. I moan as I rub my clit. My head falls back and I close my eyes at the instant arousal. I could totally get myself off in no time at all. Master Kellen hasn’t told me not to masturbate.

  He has, however, requested my presence downstairs, and I would be extremely late if I took the time to bring myself to orgasm in the tub. I’m fully aroused, but even this horny it would take me several minutes without the help of a vibrator.

  I grit my teeth as I force my fingers away from my pussy and rinse off by splashing water over my shoulders. As I take several deep breaths, I consider my situation further. Master Kellen instructed me to arrive here with nothing but the clothes I was wearing and my purse. He put my purse in a drawer in his desk when I arrived. My phone is in it. As soon as I put on the clothes he’s chosen, I won’t have a single piece of me in my possession.

  I hurry to release the water in the tub, step out onto the fluffy white rug, and grab a white towel from the rack. By the time I hang it back up, my nipples are stiffer than before and my pussy is pulsing. Just the idea of being naked in Master Kellen’s house has me aroused. I need to get a grip.

  I reach for the lime green panties and step into them. They fit perfectly. Why am I not surprised? I haven’t worn anything this childish since I was, well, six. They look ridiculous on me when I glance in the mirror. I’m also hyper-aware of my bare pussy rubbing against the cotton.

  I hold the dress up to my chest next, flattening it to my belly to ascertain how long it will be and sigh. I’ll be lucky if it covers my panties. I shouldn’t be surprised. Lucy’s dresses are always this short no matter what age she plays.

  Unlike Lucy, I can’t fathom going without a bra. Master Kellen is going to have to get over that part. My breasts are small. I’m not more than an A cup. But I have worn a bra every day since before I needed one. I’m not about to stop today. Not even to pretend to be six.

  I grab my white lace bra from my pile of discarded clothes and slip it on before tugging the dress over my head. I was right. It reaches only a few inches past my ass. If I lift my arms, it will rise enough for Master Kellen to see my panties. Why do I care? He’s already told me he will see every inch of me by the end of the day. I’m looking forward to that part. I’m horny as hell now. The sooner he touches me, the sooner he’ll put me out of my misery.

  Of all the things I’ve learned from observing and talking to Lucy, the most intriguing was that she loves being Master Roman’s little so much that she says she’s constantly aroused.

  Apparently, that feeling is a thing, because my babyish panties are already wet.

  I’m not sure what Master Kellen intended me to do with my jeans and T-shirt, but when I glance around, I see a white wicker hamper along the wall. I grab the stack and drop the clothes inside. When I turn back around, I pull my band from my hair and rummage through the drawers. I find several brushes and combs as if Master Kellen wasn’t sure what I might need. He’s done well.

  If I brushed out my curls, my hair would get frizzy and pouf out six inches on both sides, so instead, I use my fingers to divide my locks into two sections. I gather one side behind my ear and secure it with a ponytail holder. After doing the same to the other side, I tie the ribbons around them. I look in the mirror and smile. I look cute. I sometimes wear my hair in two pigtails. It’s not that odd. The bows are way over the top, but not the pigtails.

  I blow out a breath, grab my shoes and socks, and return to the bedroom. “Shit,” I mutter as I notice the time. It’s three minutes after twelve. I’m late. Not that I could have moved much faster.

  I plop down on the floor to put my silly shoes and socks on. It seems like the fastest way. As I jump to my feet, I wish I had time to breathe for a moment and gather my thoughts, but I don’t. I’m pushing my luck as it is.

  I rush from the room and jog toward the stairs, not slowing until I’m halfway down. My skirt flares out with every step, sending a breeze to my thighs and my stomach, reminding me how I’m dressed even if I don’t glance down.

  When I reach the ground floor, I pause to catch my breath and smooth my hands down the front of my dress. I walk at a more reasonable pace toward the sounds I hear, assuming if I follow the noise, I will come to Master Kellen in the kitchen.

  Sure enough, I soon find myself at the back of the house, entering an amazing great room. The family room surprises me with a maroon leather sectional as the focal point. Navy and hunter green pillows are tossed in the corners. A beige area rug covers about half of the room over the hardwood flooring. The sectional faces a wall of built-in shelves with a fireplace in the center and a large flatscreen above it.

  Beyond this living space is the kitchen. Mahogany cabinets. Granite counters in shades of brown. A similar shade of tile covers the floor. His home is amazing. It takes my breath away. I love it. The kitchen table sits between the family room and the island. It matches the cabinetry.

  What really captures my attention though is the wall of windows that looks out on an outdoor living space, a swimming pool that makes my mouth water, and lush green grass beyond. Everything is perfectly manicured. It’s like a display home.

  I jerk my attention to Master Kellen as I approach, feeling his gaze on me.

  He looks stern. “You’re late.”

  “I hurried as fast as I could.”

  “Not fast enough. And mind your manners. I warned you to address me properly.”

  I take a deep breath as I step onto the tile, glancing down at my feet. My shoes remind me I’m in my little space. “I’m sorry, Sir.” Something about this dress and these shoes make me feel every bit as precocious as I was at six. I consider sticking my tongue out at him.

  Several seconds pass. I’m aware of Master Kellen three feet in front of me, but he says nothing. Eventually, I realize I’m going to have to lift my gaze.

  He’s staring at my dress.

  Right. Shit. My bra. That would be the first thing he notices.

  “What did I tell you to wear, Sabine?”

  I swallow at his tone. I knew this was going to be a thing, but I’m nervous now that I’m about to make my argument. Nevertheless, I straighten my spine and meet his gaze. “I’ve never gone without a bra. It felt weird.”

  Master Kellen closes the distance. Before I have a chance to process his actions, he lifts the hem of my dress over my head and sets it on the island. Two seconds later, he unhooks my bra and sets it on top of my dress.

  I shudder, forcing myself not to cover my breasts. When he said he intended to see every inch of me before the end of the day, I hadn’t expected that to be before lunch, but I did this to myself. I’m not about to whine and complain and appear weak the moment this roleplaying begins. Maybe a part of me even expected this reaction from him.

  Master Kellen lifts my chin with two fingers. “Do you feel weird now?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I whisper. Heat rises up my chest and neck. I’m sure I’m covered with red splotches. I close my eyes, not wanting to see what my skin is giving away. I’m unnerved. My nipples are hard again from the air. From the nudity. From the exposure. From arousal.

  When Master Kellen releases my chin, he pulls a bar stool out from the island. I gasp when his hands come to my waist and he lifts me off the floor and turns to set
me on the stool.

  No. Not the stool. Something else. Something pink and plastic. A booster seat. The kind a toddler would use. It even has a raised section in the center that is forcing my thighs apart.

  I shiver as I give up the battle and cross my arms over my chest.

  Master Kellen pushes me up to the island, leaving me at the perfect height. I realize that without the booster seat I would not be sitting high enough to reach. Either the stools are intentionally too short or I’m seriously smaller than I thought.

  Master Kellen swipes my dress and bra off the island and leaves the room through a door next to the refrigerator. A mudroom maybe. He’s back before I can breathe, and he sets a plate in front of me. It’s pink plastic with compartments. In one is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into triangles. In the second one is apple slices. In the last one is baby carrots.

  “Master Julius told me you don’t have any allergies. Is that correct?”

  I nod, my gaze on the plate.

  “Sabine?”

  I lift my head.

  “Use your words to answer me.”

  I swallow. “No, Sir. I’m not allergic to anything.”

  “Good girl. Eat your lunch, then we’ll discuss your tardiness and disobedience.” He sets a plastic cup filled with milk on the table as he speaks.

  I can’t move. I’m still cupping my breasts. He told me he would be strict, but I wasn’t expecting this. Or maybe I’m kidding myself.

  “I’ve seen breasts before, Sabine,” he warns me in a stern voice. “If you would have done as you were told, you would be wearing the dress I chose for you right now. Lower your hands and eat.”

  I’m shaking as I drop my hands to the table. Goosebumps rise all over my skin. My nipples are stiff points, demanding attention. I have the urge to rub them when he’s not looking. Will he have a rule against me touching myself? I only have one little to compare anything too. Lucy. Master Roman doesn’t allow her to masturbate or even squirm. She has told me that sometimes when she fidgets too much from arousal, Master Roman puts a stimulant on her nipples to exacerbate the problem.