Page 10 of Daddy!

There was a list? I wondered, curious as to what else might be on it. Then it hit me. He was going to put me in a bib! I might have mused on that further, but my stomach was protesting, so I leaned forward to reach for a finger, but he tsked in warning and I sat back immediately at the behest of my still abominably stinging backside, which definitely outweighed my stomach.

"Let me feed you, baby."

This time, I leaned away from him, putting the back of my hand to my cheek in a telling sign that I was, indeed, quite little. "But I can feed myself."

"Of course, you can, silly girl!" he teased. "But you'll just have to indulge me a bit this weekend, pumpkin, 'cause I like taking care of you a lot."

So, as I watched all of my favorite cartoon vignettes, he offered up bites of my favorite foods—to the both of us—even wiping my mouth for me when I carefully said, "No, thank you," to another bite.

That earned me a nibbling kiss on the cheek and a compliment. "Those are some very nice manners, babygirl!"

My blush was very real as I giggled at the praise. I resisted the urge to offer to help him and concentrated, instead, on Marvin's Illudium Q-31 Explosive Space Mod-u-la-tor while he cleaned up, then returned to pull me onto his lap again.

I pushed against his chest experimentally, peeping up at him to see that his face said he was not very happy with the idea of me resisting him. Once he had me arranged, curled up against him again, he paused the TV, then turned it off altogether and said the words that most women—including my best friend—would kill to hear from their significant others. "I want to talk."

The adult in me knew that he was right—we needed to talk about this, to define parameters and all of that stuff—but I'd never been the kind of female who enjoyed doing that.

Unfortunately for me, Mane loved that kind of thing—he'd done it in every step of our relationship, and now he had something else to revel in the details of. Luckily, unless she was very comfortable, my little wasn't much of a talker, so I didn't think he'd get much out of her. But, as usual, it seemed lately, I underestimated Mane, although, truth be told, he did carry the majority of the conversation.

"But I don't want you to worry about it at all, either. You don't have to do anything—you don't even have to say anything unless I ask you a question, and then you just have to answer me as honestly as possible." I nodded my head where it lay on his chest.

He cleared his throat, and I caught my breath. He was nervous, too! Mane was always so strong and confident, even in unfamiliar circumstances. I was floored to think that he might not be quite so confident in this situation. It touched my heart even more than everything else he was doing utterly perfectly so far.

"You see, I've always wanted to, but I've never been any big little girl's Daddy. I'm not quite yours yet, either, but that's what I'm aiming for. And before I make any rules for you—"

I shook my head.

"What?" He stopped.

"Don't like rules."

"Ah, well, I'm sorry about that, but everyone has rules—even me. Even your big. I made her rules, and I'm going to make yours, too. For this weekend, definitely, and I'm hoping beyond that, too."

I continued to shake my head, and he ignored the silent protest I had going on.

As he spoke, he talked about me needing structure and that rules went along with that, and that he thought my bedtime might need some adjustment, but essentially, he reiterated to me what he'd said when he became my Dom—that he didn't want to make me think that I needed to ask him when to breath. He just wanted to create a framework that helped me be healthy and happy and to feel safe.

"This weekend is going to be about making you feel comfortable enough with me that, eventually, you won't even have to think about whether or not you're little. You just will be, naturally. I would be very happy to have you be little all the time, but I want it to be the amount that you're comfortable with. Everything I do—even for your big—is about creating an environment in which you feel safe—safe to be submissive to me, and now, safe to be little with me."

I was literally in tears at what he was saying. In fact, I was bawling very much like I was when he was smacking my behind.

He was immediately and obviously concerned, cupping my cheek with his hand. "What is it, little love? It hurts my heart to see you so upset. Tell Da—tell me what you're thinking, please, angel." His tone was gentle, but firm, and I knew he wasn't going to allow me to get away with not answering his question. He would be patient and kind, but he would also be obeyed, I had no doubt.

My confession was neither purely big, nor purely little, but straight from the previously unplumbed depths of my heart. "I-I can barely believe that I have you as my Dom. It's hard for me to comprehend that you're willing to do all of what that entails for me. I know it's a lot of work and responsibility." I swallowed hard, continuing to weep as I spoke, starting out in big, at first, then drifting, falling uncontrollably into my real, true little. "An' now you wanna be that for me, too? 'S too much to ask. I'll be too much for you. You'll get mad 'n' fusstrated 'causa all you gotta do for me an'—an'—an' I don' wanna be a bother." I repeated in a wet whisper, "I don' wanna be a burden."

His heartfelt, emotional, "Oh, honey!" made me sob even harder as his arms contracted around me and he plastered me to him, one big hand cupping the back of my head. Then he pulled a little away, enough to look into my eyes. "You listen to me, my darling girl. You don't ever have to worry about that. Like I told you, I've wanted a little girl just like you for the longest time. There is absolutely nothing about taking care of you that I could ever consider to be a burden. And, even though I can't ever imagine feeling this way, if I should ever be not feeling well or quite up to snuff, I would tell you so. Because I believe in communicating. A lot, as you know."

There was a long pause, during which he mused out loud and off-topic, "I'm gonna have to find a big, comfortable rocker. I can foresee wanting to rock you to sleep many a night before I put you to bed."

Then he squeezed me tighter for a moment, before picking up where he'd left off. "I don't know if it was being raised by my mom and having a younger sister whom I often babysat, but I truly enjoy taking care of people. I love everything about you, and I couldn't be happier that we have this in common, too."

He stiffened slightly, which made me do the same, then he said, "And if you don't believe me—that this is something I've wanted for a very long time, I can prove it to you."

Mane got up and carried me into his bedroom, laying me down at the end of the bed. "Stay right there, pumpkin. I'll be right back." He took a few strides away from me, then looked back, warning, "Don't move now."

"I won't."

"I should think not. I bet your little fanny is still throbbing, isn't it?"

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