Sadie's Little Christmas - Maren Smith Page 0,45
table full of coloring supplies. And of course, there was both a paddle and a strap hanging from hooks just inside the door.
She looked at them, and at that moment, she wasn’t afraid or confused. At that tenuous moment, nothing felt more right or more comforting than if he would just take one of those off the wall so she could fly under the painful whack of its use across her bare bottom.
Holding tightly to her hand, he led her to the chaise lounge and sat her down. He sat by her, holding her hands in both of his. She could have pulled away if she tried hard enough, but there was a certain measure of comfort in being held like this, and she wasn’t willing to escape it just yet.
“Can we talk about what happened?” he asked, gentle yet unsmiling—all Dom. Regardless of how it was phrased, it wasn’t really a request.
Sadie nodded, then shook her head, and finally shrugged.
“I don’t know what happened.”
Daddy. Her closing lips bit off the word, but it was right there, lurking on the tip of her tongue. No matter how much she told herself she didn’t want to say it, it wasn’t going anywhere, and the need to say it was growing swiftly up under her prickling skin.
“Was it seeing me with the other Littles? Did you get a little jealous?”
She shook her head. “No, well... maybe a little bit, but that wasn’t it, not really.”
“What was it?” he asked.
How was she even supposed to put all of what she’d been feeling into words?
“I don’t know if I can explain it to myself, to be honest. It just got so... overwhelming. I feel like I’m getting lost and don’t know if it’s a bad thing or not. It doesn’t feel bad, but sometimes, I feel silly. Or as though I ought to feel silly. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life lying on caterpillar mats and taking naps or coloring in coloring books. I’ve worked so hard to be my own person, so I wouldn’t have to do all the things those people who never really wanted me, to begin with, kept telling me to do. I want to be my own person. I like being able to decide what I do and when I do it. I like being useful and having responsibilities.
“I want to be tied up, Daddy,” she said earnestly, not even aware that she’d used that taboo word until she saw the longing for it reflected in just the slightest flicker of his blue eyes. There was no taking it back now, so she didn’t even try. A pulse of warm longing blossomed in the pit of her belly, born from her having unintentionally made him happy with nothing more than just that word, and grew in languid pulses as she confessed, “I really, really liked what we did last night. I don’t mind gentle sometimes, but sometimes, I want to wear your touch in bruises on my skin. I want to fly, Daddy. I want to fall into the pleasure and the pain and just fly. I liked it the night I flew. I want to do it again.”
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry at the thought of what he might think of her. She searched his face, but she couldn’t find a shred of judgment, concern, or even distaste toward what he was hearing.
“Are you afraid I can’t be your Daddy and still deliver on the intensity of what you’re asking for,” he softly inquired, “or are you afraid that I won’t?”
Her throat tightened so hard, she almost couldn’t speak.
“I’m afraid you’re going to think I’m crazy for wanting it in the first place,” she whispered. “Then you’re not going to want me anymore. And I don’t think I can take that because I’m already starting to like you far more than I have ever felt safe liking anybody.”
The intensity on his face softened.
“Babygirl, if there’s nothing else you learn from me, I hope it’s that you will always be wanted, no matter what you say or do, and no. I don’t think you’re crazy.” Cupping the side of her face, he pulled her to him until their foreheads rested together. “I have to go play Santa Claus, or a lot of Littles who look up to me are going to be very disappointed. I’d no sooner hurt them than I would you, do you understand?”
Eyes closed, the physical closeness already sparking wanton need