Choosing Kellen Page 16

  “I get that you were curious, and I can see that you would have been freaked out by that box of mementos. It was a little creepy.”

  “Mostly I was jealous, and that’s ridiculous. You were married to her. Of course you loved her to pieces. I think I just wanted that for myself, and I didn’t think I deserved it and would never get it.”

  He squeezes me tight against him. “You deserve the world, baby girl. And I hope I can give it to you.”

  “Take me home, Sir.”

  “Good idea.”

  Chapter 21

  Master Kellen

  * * *

  When we get back to the house, I shock Sabine by informing her we still won’t be having sex for two more days. I know it will nearly kill me, but seeing her face when I inform her is priceless. Even though we have reconciled, I feel like we have a lot of loose ends to work out, and I intend to keep my word and leave my clothes on until the two weeks are up.

  I also think we need to spend those two days talking, and Sabine needs to tell her parents she’s staying in Seattle. That’s the first item on my agenda.

  I take her straight to her room and point at the dresser. She chooses the drawer numbered eight, which is one of the few she hasn’t opened yet. The differences between them are subtle, with the exception of the drawer numbered two, which she has continued to ignore.

  Instead of leaving her alone, I watch as she removes her jeans and T-shirt and hands them to me, along with her bra, panties, and tennis shoes. God, I love seeing her naked. I can’t wait to remove all my clothing too and hold her sweet body against mine.

  After she changes we head to the living room, and my little girl is on her best behavior. She seems to love the lavender dress. It’s soft cotton with short sleeves. The front is flat across her chest and flairs out just below her breasts. Like every dress I’ve ordered for her, it only covers her bottom if her arms are at her sides.

  I love watching her situate herself every time we move to another room and another sitting arrangement. She tries to tuck the dress under her bottom unsuccessfully, and then smooths it over her thighs.

  I instruct her to sit in the corner of the sectional and I leave her there for a minute, returning with her phone in my hand. I hold it out. “Call your parents. I know it’s hanging over you. You’ll feel better after you tell them about me.”

  She swallows. “Do I have to do it today, Sir?”

  “That depends. Do you want me to spank you already? We just got here.”

  “It might be preferable,” she grumbles.

  I sit next to her and lift her chin. “One more sassy word and I’ll use a paddle instead of my hand.”

  She lowers her gaze. “Yes, Sir.”

  I point at the cell phone. “Call them.” I sit next to her and set my arm along the back of the sofa behind her.

  “You’re going to listen…Sir?”

  “Only until I’m convinced you’ve told them the important details, then I’ll leave you to talk to them alone.”

  She draws in a deep breath and places the call.

  Thirty minutes later, I glance up when I hear the sliding glass door open to the patio. Sabine slips outside as I hold out a hand to her. She shuffles over and lets me settle her on my lap. “I’m proud of you. How did it go?”

  “Fine. Better than I expected.”

  “What were you most worried about?” I ask her as I brush a lock of hair from her forehead.

  “I just thought they might be disappointed to find out I wasn’t going to come home anytime soon. They were fine with it though. They understood. They were actually excited. They asked me a thousand questions about you.”

  I smile at her. I only stayed long enough to hear her tell them she’d met someone, that she’d known me six weeks—which is a bit of a stretch, but acceptable—and that she was going to stay in Seattle.

  “I also thought they might flinch about your age, but that didn’t happen either. They didn’t care that I’m staying with you or that I haven’t found a job or that I’m not coming home.” She sighs, her face lowered. “I’m not sure they cared about anything.”

  I hug her against me and set my hand on her thigh. “They care, baby girl. I’m certain they care.” It’s becoming more and more obvious to me that Sabine’s lure to be a little stems from this lifetime of thinking no one cared. I’m aware that one of the things she needs from me is constant reassurance that I give a damn.

  She draws in a slow breath and lifts her gaze. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”

  I shake my head. “Thank you for giving me another chance. I let you down. It won’t happen again. I promise to earn your trust back.”

  “I promise to be more obedient.”

  I chuckle. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  Her eyes widen. “I mean it, Sir. I’m going to be better.”

  “You don’t need to be better. Just be you. I like you just the way you are. I’m aware that you’ll misbehave and that you need to in order to ensure I will not waver on my rules. Over time, you’ll learn that I’m here no matter what and you won’t need the constant reassurances.”

  She smiles.

  “Plus, you’ll get tired of being horny all the time and eventually decide to be more obedient in order to get something I intend for you to crave more than negative attention.”

  She flushes. “I’m looking forward to it, Sir.”

  “I want you to be happy, Sabine. If there’s anything you need, emotionally or physically, I want you to let me know.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She glances around. “If I’m going to live here, I should help out with the expenses.”

  I roll my eyes. “Not a chance, baby girl. You’re my responsibility.”

  She chews her bottom lip. “You know I have a trust fund. I’m so spoiled that I don’t even have to work.” She lifts a finger to make a point. “Though I intend to. I’ve always wanted to have a career. It’s important to me. I want to feel like I can support myself.”

  “That’s understandable. You said you wanted to write about your experiences. Is that still something that interests you?”

  She nods. “Yes. I think it would be cathartic, and who knows, maybe someone will like my work.”

  “Then that’s what you should do. I’ll set you up with a computer so you can do whatever research you need and start plotting the next great novel.”

  She scrunches up her face. “Let’s not get carried away. I might suck.”

  “You won’t suck. I’m certain. But you won’t know until you try. You should also read other material written by littles. It might help you in your life and in your work. We’ll set up times each day when you’ll be required to work. I’ll schedule it into your days.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” She throws her arms around me and hugs me tight.

  I slide my hand up under her dress and grip her waist, loving the way she shivers at my touch. When I lean back, I meet her gaze again. “I want you to focus on what you need from this relationship for the next few days. When you write in your journal, I want you to make a list of what you like and don’t like.” I narrow my gaze. “Not to say I will necessarily suddenly change anything, but I want to be aware.”

  “I left my journal with you,” she whispers.

  “And I set it on your table in my office. It’s still there, waiting for you.”

  “Did you read it?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Those are your private thoughts. I don’t ever want you to hold back out of fear I might read something and then react to your musings. I won’t violate that trust.”

  “Okay.”

  “Starting Monday, we’ll have a new routine. You’ll have a new chore chart.”

  She groans. “You know I’m not very good at chores.”

  I chuckle. “I do, and I was too lenient with you the last two weeks. That’s going to change. Surely you maintained your own apartment for the last few years.”

  She cringes. “Poorly.”

>   “Then you’ll have some things to learn.”

  She groans again like any little girl would when assigned chores. I’m not surprised. It’s one more thing she missed out on in her real childhood. She needs responsibilities and consequences. She’ll have them in abundance.

  “Also, you should know, I have an assistant who works for me. I gave her the past two weeks off so that her presence wouldn’t cause you stress. She’ll be back on Monday, too.”

  She swallows. “Right. Josie. Abby told me about her. Is she…pretty?”

  I laugh again. “I’m sure her Dom thinks so.”

  Sabine’s eyes widen yet again. “She’s a submissive?”

  “Yes. She and her Master are members of Surrender. She has a business degree, and she keeps me organized. She and Master Grayson have been together a year, but twenty-four seven is too much for them, so she’s been working for me for about six months. It’s been the perfect arrangement. Master Grayson knows me and trusts me.”

  “That worked out well.”

  “Yes. They had been struggling for a while. I overheard them discussing it one night and provided the perfect solution. It’s a win-win because it would be difficult for me to have an assistant who isn’t in the lifestyle. I would have to tread carefully all the time to keep my work separate from my private life. That hasn’t been a huge issue lately since I haven’t had a submissive, but now that you’re here, how on earth would I explain that to a vanilla assistant?” I tickle her tummy.

  She giggles. “Will she think I’m weird?”

  “Nope. She’s in the lifestyle. She’s seen everything and would never judge.”

  “But she’s not a little.” Sabine chews on her bottom lip.

  “No, she’s not. Trust me. You have no need to worry. You’ll love Josie.”

  Chapter 22

  Sabine

  * * *

  I’m a nervous wreck when I wake up on Saturday. I need to be good today. All day. Today is the day Master Kellen has told me he will end his no-sex rule. I’ve had butterflies in my belly since I woke up. I’m both nervous and excited.

  Yesterday, I wasn’t permitted to orgasm because I didn’t make it until lunch without misbehaving. Today, I must do better. I will. I’m already awake and thinking about my obedience when Master Kellen comes into my room.

  He sits on the edge of my bed and strokes my cheek. “Good morning, little one.”

  “Good morning, Sir.”

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Not really, Sir.” I glance away, flushing. I could have just said yes.

  He chuckles. “Something on your mind, baby girl?”

  The heat in my cheeks increases, and I squirm beneath his gaze. He looks so sexy first thing in the morning with his tight T-shirt and flannel sleep pants. His hair is tussled, and he has a shadow of a beard that I want to run my palm over. No, my cheek.

  “I want you to do something out of your comfort zone today, Sabine.” His voice is serious.

  “What’s that, Sir?”

  He nods toward my dresser. “I want you to try the last drawer you haven’t opened. You can’t know for sure how you might react until you’ve stepped in those shoes. These two weeks were originally meant to be an experiment in all ages of littles. You’ve ignored age two.”

  I shiver. I’ve skipped age two intentionally every day, too afraid to open it. Too afraid to see what’s inside. Too afraid to face what it might mean if I like it. It’s no lie that I’ve enjoyed the younger ages, but that might have something to do with the fact that I’m so naughty. Master Kellen insists I’m not a true brat, but there’s no denying that I can be bratty, and it’s so much fun when I’m four.

  But two? Two isn’t four. Two isn’t a lot of things.

  “Yes, Sir,” I murmur as I play with the hem of my nightie under the blankets.

  He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Good girl. I’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes.” His hand lands on my thigh as he stands, finally lifting off me when he turns to leave.

  I watch him shuffle from the room and then take a deep breath. I don’t have time to dawdle. I won’t be late this morning. Stuffing my fears to the back of my head, I slip from the bed, quickly make it, and then pad to the bathroom. This isn’t my usual routine, but I use the toilet, wash my hands and face, and brush my teeth.

  After dropping my nightie in the hamper, leaving myself naked, I turn and inch toward the dresser. It’s ominous every day because the contents are unknown. But today is worse. I’ve seen what four, six, eight, ten, and twelve mean to Master Kellen. I don’t have a clue about two.

  What does two mean? It has such a wide range of possibilities. Babies who have just turned two aren’t even potty trained. They could be taking a bottle still. What about pacifiers and baby toys and… God. So many things.

  I finally slide the drawer open and reach inside to lift out the pile without looking closely. I turn around and set it all on my bed and then spread it out.

  I’m relieved to find no diapers. That part is out of my comfort zone. I lift the panties while inhaling slowly. Padded. Training pants for toddlers. White with little pink bows printed on them. I step into them and pull them up. They feel awkward with too much cotton between my legs, but they’re better than diapers, so I count my blessings.

  I pick up the dress next. Solid pink. The top has thin halter straps, and when I pull it over my head, I realize it is flat against my chest, making my nipples incredibly obvious. The skirt begins just below my breasts, flaring out so that it would be full if I twirled. It hangs just below my panties, as all my dresses do.

  I sit down on the floor and put on the frilly pink socks and then the pink tennis shoes that light up every time I move them. When I stand, I’m pink from head to toe. There are ribbons, so I grab them and return to the bathroom. Three minutes later, I have two high pigtails tied with the ribbons.

  I stare at myself for several minutes. This isn’t too bad. The only real difference is the training pants meant for accidents. Their bulk is awkward.

  I glance at the clock on my way toward the hall, glad that I have only taken ten minutes. I’m not late. I rush awkwardly down the stairs and into the living room and kitchen area.

  Master Kellen turns to face me in the kitchen when he hears me enter. He reaches for me. “You look so pretty, baby girl.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” I wrap my arms around his middle, hugging him close. I love it when he holds me against him. I love inhaling his scent and pressing my body to his. But mostly I love how he spreads his palms on my back and rubs up and down. I feel loved in his arms. Cared for.

  “Hungry?” he asks as he dips down and lifts me by the waist. He swings me around and sets me on the booster seat. A moment later, he pulls the buckles from around my waist and between my legs. I hold my breath while he fastens me in, his knuckles grazing my pussy through the thick panties.

  When he’s done, he pauses, cupping my breasts and flicking his thumbs over my stiff buds. “I like how I can see your nipples through this material. They’re hard points. Does that mean you’re not opposed to this age trial?”

  “I’m not sure yet, Sir,” I murmur, trying not to moan.

  He tweaks my nipples and then scoots my chair up to the island.

  I fidget while I wait for him to serve me. I’m flustered and aroused from his touch, craving more of it. My weird panties are wet from arousal, and every time I move, I’m aware of the strap between my legs, pulled snug against my pussy. It’s intentional. It’s working.

  Master Kellen finally sets a plate in front of me. It’s plastic and sectioned. Each compartment has a portion of different food, and all of it is cut up into small pieces. He hasn’t given me a utensil.

  I nervously reach for a bite of fried egg and then go for a piece of French toast. I’m hungry, and it’s weird eating such small bites. I have the urge to grab five at once but fear Master Kellen might reprimand me.

  The last compartment has small piece
s of banana. And of course, he gives me a sippy cup of milk. That doesn’t surprise me.

  The man can cook, that I can attest to. And I cannot. Nor do I enjoy cooking. From that perspective, this arrangement is perfect.

  After breakfast, Master Kellen takes me to his office and settles me at my table. “Journal first, then you can play.”

  I pick up my pencil and open to the page I was on in my notebook, but before I start, I stare at Master Kellen for inspiration.

  He glances at me and frowns. “Sabine…” he warns.

  I realize something. I love that tone. I shouldn’t. It’s the one that foreshadows a probable spanking. It’s also the tone that tells me he is paying attention. That he means business. That I won’t get away with whatever I’m thinking. It’s a warning. I can choose to ignore it or heed it. Most days, I press my luck and end up over his lap, proving time and again that he won’t let me down.

  Today, I jerk my attention to my journal and start writing. Today is not the day I want to feel his palm on my bottom. Today is the day I want to feel his cock inside me. I write because I have all these thoughts. They come easily.

  I squirm as I remind myself of his tone, the one that makes my pussy wet and my nipples stiff. Even now, thinking of his reprimand makes me horny. The thick cotton of my panties is wet. I rock forward, trying to ease the pressure. If I squeeze my legs together, the thickness will rub against me better than regular thin panties. I know this, but I won’t risk it. Not today.

  I spread my thighs to avoid excessive contact, wrapping my ankles around the legs of the chair. Every movement brings attention to my nipples because the flat front of my dress is rubbing against them.

  I keep writing, inspiration striking me and keeping me occupied. I think about all the things Lucy has said to me over the past six weeks. The freedom she feels living under strict rules. Her statement seemed so incongruent to me at first, but now I get it.