Nurturing Britney - Becca Jameson Page 0,51

uncertain. I might feel odd talking to another little.

He comes to me, pulls my lip out with his thumb, and kisses me gently. “Not mandatory, sweetie. When you’re ready. Just an option. You think about it. If you decide you’d like to talk to someone, let me know.”

“Yes, Sir.” I cock my head. “Should I call you Sir?”

“When we’re alone, yes. I expect my littles to address me respectfully.”

I nod. Apparently, the respect he explained to me the first time does extend beyond the bedroom. I already know he likes when I call him Sir. Now I’m understanding he’d prefer I address him that way all the time. Another question comes to mind. “Do you want me to call you Daddy?”

He has the refrigerator open and he sucks in a breath and freezes. His hand grips the door hard enough that his knuckles are white. Finally, he glances at me. “Only when you’re ready and it feels natural. Not now. Don’t force it.”

“Okay.” I watch him swallow. He would love for me to call him Daddy.

He sets all the makings of a chef salad on the island and starts to chop vegetables while I watch. “You’ve been sliding into the role of a little for three days, sweetie. It happened naturally for you. It’s called little space. It’s a mindset that happens when you let yourself be your little. Not a lot is going to change. I’ll be trying different things with you to see what you enjoy.”

“Like what?” My curiosity is off the charts.

“For example, my natural inclination is to be a strict Daddy. That means you’ll do as you’re told. When you misbehave, you’ll be disciplined.”

I squirm on the seat, my panties growing damp at the suggestion that he might punish me. My face flushes.

He smiles at me. “Don’t be embarrassed. Many littles enjoy some form of discipline. It’s part of the dynamic. It’s inherent in the scene. I wouldn’t include obedience and discipline if it didn’t make you squirm.” He lifts his brows.

My mouth is suddenly dry. “Is that what the tally marks are for?”

“Yep.”

I swallow as it dawns on me. “Are you going to spank me?”

He meets my gaze. “Eventually.”

“Once for every tally mark…”

“Exactly.” He sets the knife down and comes to me again. He cups my face. “I don’t want you to dwell on that right now. I’ll discipline you when I think you’re ready to try that part of the lifestyle, and then I’ll adjust my punishments according to your reactions.”

“What if I don’t like being spanked?” I squirm again. Part of me knows I will like it. And that part of me is totally embarrassed.

He winks at me. “Then I guess you won’t misbehave, will you?”

I suck in a breath.

He’s so intense. I watch him as he works. Every muscle in his arms bulges. I love the feel of his rock-hard biceps. I love the way he can easily hold me down. I love that he can lift me up and swing me around.

I know he thinks I need time to explore this lifestyle, and he’s not wrong. My head is spinning with all the information. But what I also know is that I’m excited. Every inch of me wants this experience. I can’t imagine a day when I might decide I don’t want to be here anymore.

I’m already so attached to Davis that I can’t take my gaze off him. He could easily become my world.

And then what? Who will I be if I shed my old self and become Davis’s little girl? Is that enough? Could I move in with him and never leave? I have a lot of concerns about the future, but for now, I’m going to focus on the present and enjoy every moment of this experience.

“Are there any vegetables you don’t like, sweetie?”

“Carrots.” I turn my nose up.

He chuckles. “Then I won’t put them all over your salad, but I expect you to eat two bites.”

“Okay.” My voice comes out as a whine, startling me and making him glance up and smile.

“Oh, boy. This sweet little girl is going to be the death of me. I can tell it already.”

We eat dinner mostly in silence. I keep thinking of more questions, but there are so many I don’t even know where to begin. In addition, I’m trying to talk between bites of raw vegetables. So, I let my mind wander and build up, waiting until after dinner.

Davis laughs at me when I make a sour face while

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