Nurturing Britney (Surrender Book 7) by Becca Jameson (inspirational novels .TXT) 📕

“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 eating two bites of carrot. Gross. I still don’t like them.

He leads me to the same armchair in the living room after we load the dishwasher, and I’m glad he pulls me into his lap again. I love sitting on his lap. I love it when he has his arms around me.

“More questions, sweet girl?” he prompts. “I could see the wheels turning during dinner.”

“How many people do you know who live as Daddies and littles?”

“There are dozens who are members of Surrender. Some of them I’m fairly well acquainted with. If I had my own little, I would know them better.” He smiles.

“Oh.” He means me. If I were his then we would have a social circle that included other people in this lifestyle.

He runs his hand up and down my thigh and I squirm on his lap. “So, it’s not weird that I get…um…horny when I’m submitting to you like this?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. I’m glad to hear it.” His hand runs up over my butt, teasing the edge of my panties.

I suck in a breath, wetness instantly leaking out of me. “You’re teasing me.”

“Mm-hmm. Sit still, sweetie.”

I try, but it’s hard. “That makes it worse.”

He winks. “Now, you’re catching on.”

I squeeze my thighs together and draw my arms in close to my chest. “Do other little girls dress like this? Is that why you bought me these dresses?”

“There are so many kinds of littles. Some prefer younger ages and some prefer older ages. Usually, girls that enjoy the ages of twelve to sixteen are called middles. So, to answer your question, they dress in all ages of clothing. Some even like to be infants. They might take a bottle and wear diapers.”

I squish up my face. “I wouldn’t like that.”

“Neither would I.” He smiles.

“Do they live like this all the time?”

“Again, preferences. Daddies and littles have to talk things out and reevaluate often. Make sure both their needs are being met. Some littles remain that way twenty-four-seven. Others have designated hours when they play. Some have regular jobs and leave the house as adults. Others do not.”

“What kind of little was Collette?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t mind talking about her. He hasn’t indicated that it bothers him.

He takes a breath and seems to be thinking about how much he wants to tell me. “She was a full-time little at first. When she moved in with me, she rarely broke from the lifestyle. But over time, we started to clash. Eventually, we were always fighting, and then I got this job in Seattle. She stayed behind because she didn’t want to work things out.”

I swallow. “So, you want your little girl to be full-time?” The idea makes me nervous. I’m enjoying this, but could I do it forever? It’s hard to imagine. It sounds like Collette didn’t want to be his full-time little girl.

He leans his forehead against mine and holds my gaze. “Yes, sweetie. I really would like to have