Healing Carson's Little - Izaia Winter Page 0,68

spent together, but this was different. This was Miller completely giving over to his little side and to me.

“What’s Lee doing right now?” I asked, knowing there had to be more to the plan than Lee abandoning Miller to my clutches.

“He’s waiting downstairs. For a text,” he clarified. “I’m supposed to tell him to either leave or wait for me to come down so he can take me home.”

“Tell him to leave.”

Miller sat up straight. “Really?” he asked, looking at me with half-panicked, half-excited eyes.

Deciding to trust in the half-excited part of him, I continued, “Yes, really.”

Miller grabbed his phone and sent a short text to Lee. As soon as he hit the send button, I could tell the half-panicked side of him was winning the inner battle.

“Do you remember your safeword?” I asked, drawing his attention back to me and what we had already agreed upon.

“Yes.” His voice was soft as a light flush graced his cheeks.

“I think we should keep it simple tonight,” I said in a calm, controlled voice. I needed him to know that nothing happening between us would be scary or new. That would be for later, way later. Tonight was about getting to know each other, about getting comfortable in our roles and having fun. Because at the end of the day, BDSM was supposed to be fun. If you didn’t enjoy it, what was the point?

I studied him as he squirmed in his chair. I knew if he was going to get into any kind of little headspace, I needed to get him comfortable first.

Clothes and food and stuffies, I thought, the surest way to a little’s headspace.

“Here’s what I want you to do, little darling. I want you to go to the playroom and find something nice to wear. Take your time. Pick out something you like.” I kept my instructions simple as I gentled my voice.

Treat him like a little, and he’ll start to feel like one.

“And don’t worry about them belonging to someone else. I’m a bit of a shopaholic when it comes to the playroom, and when someone claims it, it’s theirs to keep,” I explained, already seeing the path of his thoughts.

No one wanted to be second, and if my previous littles hadn’t wanted to keep the things they’d claimed when our time was over, I donated them to the club’s nursery and littles. They were always excited to get new things to play with.

I never purchased things with a specific little in mind. If I was out and happened to stumble across a cute t-shirt or a pretty dress, I felt compelled to get them. It was always more of a hopeful thing for me. I knew the day I stopped would be the day I gave up on having a little for myself. Thankfully, that day hadn’t arrived yet.

Looking at Miller, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever have to worry about that again. He felt like forever.

Shaking out of my whimsical thoughts, I stood from the table. “Take your time. I’ll start dinner.”

I was always hungry after game night and knew Miller probably felt the same. I’d seen him rubbing his stomach absently once or twice. Stepping into the kitchen, I knew I could satisfy one of his hungers easily enough. Glancing back at the table, I saw Miller still sitting there, his body practically vibrating.

“Better hurry. Sprinkles it waiting for you,” I said to him.

Sure enough, that got him going.

He scrambled out of his chair and disappeared down the hallway. I heard the sound of the playroom door opening and closing behind him and relaxed as we crossed the first hurdle.

I opened the refrigerator and studied the contents. I sighed when nothing stuck out at me as appealing. Opening the freezer, I saw the stack of frozen pizzas and chuckled, remembering his expression when he’d discovered the pizza shop next door. I thought about popping down there and getting a fresh pizza but didn’t want to leave Miller alone. Pulling out a frozen one, I checked the temperature needed and turned the oven on to preheat.

Figuring he’d need a healthy snack beforehand, I took an apple from the nearby fruit bowl, rinsed it off in the sink, grabbed a knife, and made quick work of slicing it up. Opening my little cabinet, I felt a thrill as I took down one of the bright, floral plates I reserved for just this purpose. The plate was a riot of color and nothing like

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