Choosing Kellen

by Becca Jameson

  “I couldn’t sleep any longer,” she murmurs.

  “I put you to bed too early,” I acknowledge. “Did you sleep well, though?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She lowers her gaze before continuing. “Eventually. You left me extremely aroused.”

  I slide my hand to hers and hold her fingers. “That was the goal. Do you think you can be a good girl today? I’d rather end the day making you come so hard that you scream instead of leaving you hanging.”

  I love the flush that creeps up her face, and I have the sudden urge to see if that red splotchy skin extends to any other part of her this morning. I’ve thought of nothing but her smooth gorgeous skin since I left her last night.

  After lifting her small hand above her head, I press it into the pillow and then do the same with her other hand. Without a word, I tug the comforter and sheet down her body. Her nightgown is covering her. She’s even tugged it under her bottom.

  When I set my hand on her thigh and rub up and down, she whimpers. I love that sound. The sound of arousal. The sound that verifies she’s turned on by our roleplaying. It’s a reminder that I’m doing the right things.

  I reach for the hem of her nightgown with both hands and drag it up her body until it’s balled up around her neck.

  She shudders as goosebumps rise all over her skin. Her thighs are pressed together.

  I dance my fingers over her nipples, loving the way they instantly respond by pebbling. Her small breasts are so sexy. As I glide my fingertips down her belly, it hollows.

  I shift my weight slightly, moving farther down her body, before picking up her closest leg, lifting it, and bringing her foot around my waist. I’m impressed that she has let her muscles relax enough for me to open her pussy up like this without having to reprimand her.

  With one hand, I press her other thigh wider. With my other hand, I part her folds, loving the scent of her and the way she glistens with arousal.

  She gasps, and her body jerks when I stroke a finger through her folds.

  “My little girl wakes up horny.”

  She tips her head back and moans.

  I push the hood back from her clit and circle it with the tip of my finger.

  Her moan deepens. Music to my ears. I want to lower my face and suck her into my mouth. I won’t. Not this morning. Not yet. But God, I want to. Instead, I’m going to watch her come alive for me as I give her a taste of what it means to be a good girl in my house. I want her to fully grasp the benefits.

  “If you can lie very still for me, baby girl, and keep your hands above your head, I’ll bring you pleasure with my fingers. Can you do that?”

  She nods vigorously. “Yes, Sir.” Her voice squeaks.

  “Good girl.” I flick her clit several times, watching as her mouth drops open and she stops breathing. She’s so expressive when she’s aroused. I wasn’t wrong about her flush, either. The red on her cheeks extends down her chest.

  I set one hand on her belly to keep her still as I ease a finger into her pussy. She’s damn tight. So damn tight. “When was the last time you had sex, baby girl?”

  She moans before blinking. “It’s been over a year,” she whispers.

  No wonder. I add a second finger and scissor them inside her, loving how her face tightens. Her pink nipples rise as she tries not to move but still manages to arch her chest a bit.

  I thrust deeper, watching her face as she sucks in a breath and fists her hands in the pillow above her head. I tease her like this for several minutes, nearly removing my fingers and then pressing them deep over and over. Not giving her enough. Making her climb to the peak before I finally set my thumb on her clit and rub the swollen nub.

  Her breath hitches, and then her body stiffens and she comes hard around my fingers. It’s so damn sexy watching her shatter. Her body jerks, and quick little sounds come out of her mouth with every pulse of her release.

  I gauge her closely, knowing the precise moment I need to remove my thumb from her clit and ease my fingers out of her tight warmth. I bring them to my mouth and suck them one at a time while she blinks at me.

  Her body sinks into the mattress, sated, warm, pink, sexy.

  When I’m done sucking my fingers, I brace myself on both sides of her and lean down close to kiss her lips for the first time. Gentle nibbles with flicks of my tongue across her lips.

  She tries to lift her head and deepen the kiss, but I don’t let her. I tease her instead, not allowing her to control things, not giving her the deeper kiss we both crave. Not this morning. Not yet. Not now.

  I hadn’t meant to kiss her at all this soon. It had just happened. And I’m not sorry, but the feel of her lips does nothing to calm my cock. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this hard.

  I pull back. I need to leave this room before I change my mind and yank my flannel pants down. I’m so turned on that I would probably take her without a condom.

  I stand slowly, leaving her sweet body splayed open on the bed. I lean down to peck her lips one more time. “Choose a drawer, little one. I’ll meet you downstairs in half an hour. Braid your hair on both sides.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she breathes.

  I pad from the room, close the adjoining door, and head straight for my bathroom. All I can think about is wrapping my hand around my cock, closing my eyes, and picturing Sabine’s body while I masturbate to her image.

  Chapter 9

  Sabine

  * * *

  I start shaking as soon as Master Kellen is gone. I stare at the door he exited through for several minutes, my ears ringing as though I’ve been at a loud concert. He’s just turned my world upside down and inside out.

  I can’t believe he made me come like that and then walked away casually. I felt his erection against my thigh while he fingered me. He clearly wanted me, too. I don’t understand why he has a no-sex rule. I wanted to beg him to take me. Even after I came, I wanted more.

  I finally tug my nightgown over my breasts and push to sitting. I’m still breathing heavily from the best orgasm of my life. When I decide my legs will hold me up, I pad to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are pink. My hair is a mess. I’m sexually frustrated.

  That’s absurd of course. I just came. If anyone should be frustrated, it should be him. Not me. But I am. And I’m kind of ticked.

  At least he didn’t leave me hanging like last night. That had been the worst. Hands down. But I’ve never wanted anyone as badly as I wanted Master Kellen while he fingered me. I’m frustrated that he made me come so easily. I’m frustrated that he didn’t fuck me. I’m frustrated that he left the room.

  I tug my nightgown over my head, use the toilet, and then wash my hands and face. My hair is frizzy, but it won’t matter if I’m going to braid it.

  Naked, I pad back to my bedroom, open the blinds, and then step over to the dresser. I stare for a moment, unsure what drawer I want to open. I finally decide to go for the drawer labeled ten.

  Before I open it, I listen closely. I can hear the shower running in the master bathroom. If Master Kellen is in the shower, then he’s not watching me on the camera.

  I glance at the corner where a dim green light indicates it’s active, and then I quickly open drawer number six, just to see if he refilled it from yesterday. He has. There is a lavender dress inside. I don’t dare touch it or pick it up to examine it further. Instead, I shut the drawer and pull open number ten.

  My heart is racing as if I’ve stolen a cookie or snuck away from one of my nannies without her knowing. I did that sort of thing when I was a kid. I got away with it every time. It gave me a rush. I feel a similar rush now as I lift out today’s clothes and pad back to my bathroom. I set everything on the counter and then take a deep breath.

  I jerk the panties out of the stack first and pull them on. White. Plain. Interesting choice. Next, I lift a white blouse. It has short sleeves and a collar. I put it on, trying to ignore the fact that I would never wear a blouse without a bra. I button it up, leaving the
top button undone. The material is thin and light, but it’s pressed and wrinkle-free. I grab the pleated plaid jumper next.

  I pull it over my head. The top part that rests on my shoulders is basically two three-inch sections that hold up the skirt. It’s not fitted. The skirt is pleated and loose. And short. Very short. I look like a schoolgirl in a uniform.

  I feel like a very naughty school girl. I don’t know what’s come over me, but something about the combination of being denied Master Kellen’s dick and then peeking in that drawer has made me feel mischievous. It’s like I’m sliding back to my real childhood. One where I would have hidden in the closet next and waited for someone to come find me instead of heading for breakfast as expected.

  I put on the white socks, fold them down, and then the black Mary Janes. When I stand and look in the mirror, I realize I need to tackle my hair next. I open a drawer and grab a brush with wide bristles. Even using that is going to cause my hair to pouf out, but I don’t have a choice. I need to work through the tangles before I can possibly braid it.

  It takes me longer than I have time for, and when I’m done, I’m late. I wonder if Master Kellen will spank me again? And then I wonder how I feel about that. I probably could have hurried and finished my hair faster than I did, but for some reason, I took my time.

  I don’t even bother to run down the stairs. I take them at a leisurely pace and stroll into the kitchen feeling feisty.

  Master Kellen’s back is to me, but he hears me approach. “You’re late.”

  Some defiant side of me rears its head at his tone. “I’m not used to braiding my hair. It takes a while,” I declare in a tone I haven’t used for years.

  Master Kellen turns around and heads my way. His brow is furrowed. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

  I chew on my bottom lip and shake my head. He can’t possibly know about me peeking in the drawer. He hasn’t had time to shower, cook, and watch footage from my bedroom.

  “Sabine…” he warns.

  I say nothing. Is there something else I’ve done that I should atone for?

  He closes the space between us, unbuttons the second and third button on my blouse, and then grabs the hem of my skirt and lifts the entire thing over my head.

  I gasp as he tosses my clothes on the counter and then lifts me by the waist to set me on the booster seat. It’s the same routine from yesterday, though I’m not sure why I’ve been stripped this morning. Once again, I’m in nothing but my panties and my shoes and socks.

  He pushes me up to the island and then turns around to fill one of the two plates next to the stove with eggs and bacon and toast.

  My stomach grumbles. I’m hungry. I’m also chilled, and I cross my arms over my breasts in frustration. He hasn’t mentioned why I’m in trouble, but he’s obviously not pleased.

  He sets the plate of hot food at his spot out of reach and then opens a cabinet and pulls out a box of cheerios. I watch as he takes a yellow plastic bowl from the cabinet, fills it halfway with the cereal, and then sets it in front of me.

  A moment later, he takes a cup from the cabinet, fills it with milk, and then screws on a lid. That is placed in front of me too. “Eat, Sabine.”

  I stare at the food. Something is wrong. My stomach sinks. I’m in trouble for sure. Even though I’ve come downstairs as a ten-year-old, I’m being treated like a toddler. The cup is a sippy cup. I don’t have a spoon or milk on my cereal. I’m not offered eggs and bacon. The portion that was obviously mine is still in the pan.

  Master Kellen flips through his phone while he eats, ignoring me.

  I don’t move. I don’t want dry cereal or milk this morning. I’m angry and cold and naked and furious. So, I don’t move. I just sit there. When he’s done and has the dishes put away, he silently puts my milk in the fridge and sets my cereal on the counter.

  He pulls my chair out, lifts me from the booster seat, and walks me toward the corner where I stood yesterday. Without a word, he arranges me exactly as he did the day before, my hands behind my back, my forehead and breasts to the wall, my feet wide.

  When he’s satisfied, I hear him pull out a chair at the table behind me and drop down onto it. “I’ve got nothing but time, Sabine. You can stand there until you’re ready to be honest and accept your punishment. I understand that your parents had no rules when you were growing up. I get that they let you get away with anything and everything. But I’m not that kind of Daddy, Sabine. You won’t disobey me. You won’t lie to me. If you do, you will be disciplined.”

  I swallow. I’m shivering, partly from the chill in the room and partly from being chastised. I still don’t know for sure what I’ve done. I was late. I was also snarky when I arrived. But what am I lying about?

  I stand there for a long time, my legs growing stiff. My arms start to ache too. Finally, I drop them and spin around. “I’m sorry I was late for breakfast, Sir,” I mumble, not meeting his gaze.

  “Sabine…” he warns. “Turn back around and face the corner. You don’t have permission to move a single inch until you’re ready to stop lying to me. You came here to learn what it’s like to live as a little. I warned you I was strict. I knew you would probably challenge me. You won’t get away with anything though. So, face the corner and think about your options.”

  I turn around slowly, part of me wanting to stop this charade right now. I’m inclined to tell him I’m a grown adult and he can go fuck himself, but I figure I should probably think that over a bit longer first.

  He starts speaking again a few minutes later. “You’re not being kept here against your will, Sabine.”

  I hate that he hasn’t called me baby girl or little one since I stepped into the kitchen. It’s poignant.

  “If you don’t want to live by my rules, I’ll call Julius and have him come get you. This experiment is for you, to help you learn about the lifestyle and hopefully find out something about yourself in the process. If you’re testing me, I suggest you stop right now. You won’t succeed. I’m a firm Dom and an even stricter Daddy. I won’t tolerate a brat.”

  “I’m not a brat, Sir,” I argue without moving.

  “In the world of Daddies and littles, a brat is someone who enjoys being defiant because they like to be punished. It’s a particular kink. Sometimes they’re whiney. They might throw tantrums. Anything to get attention. It’s a legitimate lifestyle but only if the Daddy they live with likes that sort of behavior. I do not tolerate it. When you’re disobedient in my home, you’ll be disciplined. You forfeit pleasure for that day. Period.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed, fighting back tears. I don’t even know why I’m about to cry. I think it’s because I’ve disappointed Master Kellen and I hate that he’s angry with me.

  I wait several more minutes, trying to pull my emotions back together. But I’m failing, and finally, I give up and let out a sob, turning around to face Master Kellen again. “I’m sorry, Sir. I opened one of the drawers in my room besides the one for today. I wanted to see if you replaced yesterday’s clothes. I shouldn’t have looked. I’m sorry.” Tears run down my cheeks, and I press my arms against my breasts.

  Master Kellen holds out a hand. “Come here, little one.” His voice is back to the one I like, and I rush forward and throw myself into his arms.

  He holds me against his chest between his legs, his hand on the back of my head. “That’s a girl. Let it out.”

  I cry for several minutes, still shocked by my reaction. I cry for the girl I was who didn’t have someone enforcing any rules. I cry for the girl who tried to get the attention of her parents by acting out and failed miserably every time.

  When I finally right myself and wipe my tears on the backs of my hands, Master Kellen reaches toward the center of the table and snags a few napkins. He uses them to wipe my face. “Feel better?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I whisper. How the hell does he know I looked in that drawer? I don’t ask. I don’t want to know. I won’t do it again, that’s for sure.


  “I’m going to spank you now, and then we’ll put your dress back on. You may eat your breakfast if you want, and then we’ll go to my office and you can spend some time writing in your journal.”

  “Yes, Sir.” I shudder at the thought of being spanked again.

  He pulls me to his side, lowers me over his lap, and pulls my panties down to my thighs. After trapping my wrists at my lower back, he spanks my bottom without hesitation. It hurts. I’m pretty sure he does it harder than yesterday. A spray of swats land all over my cheeks, gradually landing lower until he’s hitting the sensitive spot where my butt meets my thighs.

  The vibrations reach my pussy when he strikes me there. I grit my teeth to keep from reacting as I grow wet and needy. I’m embarrassed that I’ve gotten aroused once again from a spanking.

  Finally, he stands me on my feet. He pulls my panties up and then reaches between my legs to press the cotton against my swollen sex. I’m so wet that I soak the strip of cotton.

  Master Kellen pats my pussy a few times and then removes his hand. I know my face is flushed, but he doesn’t comment. He simply retrieves my clothes and pulls my blouse and jumper back over my head. He buttons all the buttons up to my chin. “Breakfast?”

  “Yes, Sir.” I better eat or I’ll be hungry before lunch. Already I’ve expended a lot of energy. The cereal and milk won’t be much, but it will be enough to tide me over.

  Master Kellen leaves me at the table after setting me on the booster seat and returning my breakfast to me. He leaves the kitchen entirely while I eat, materializing as soon as I’ve sucked the last of my milk from the sippy cup.

  Five minutes later, I’m in his office at my small table again, pencil and notebook in front of me. I’m still trying to find a coherent thought. What I know for sure is that I’m relieved.

  A strange weight has lifted from my shoulders. There is an odd comfort in knowing I must obey Master Kellen or be punished. I’m not sure how to put that into words, but I try, spending the next hour or so writing my thoughts in the journal.