Page 36 of Derek

“No, the social worker offered, but since I was a high school graduate, I could get a job, and I didn’t want to. UMKC had already accepted me for the fall. I thought I could stay in my gran’s house and everything would work out.” Sonja’s voice was still low.

“What happened?” he asked.

Sonja wanted to look away but felt trapped by Derek’s gaze. He wasn’t going to like this part. “Gran had gone on Medicaid, so I thought the medical bills had been paid. What I didn’t know was that she’d taken out a second mortgage on the house to cover medical expenses back when my mother was ill, and she’d only been paying interest on the loan. I had to sell the house pretty much right away to cover the loan and the funeral expenses. That left me with enough money for one semester’s tuition at the university, a fast-food job that wasn’t enough to pay for rent, and Gran’s old Buick. I could have spent my tuition money on rent, but I had my heart set on a college education, so I lived out of the car for almost a year. I got a second job cleaning at night and saved every penny I could.”

Derek cursed before his eyes softened on her. “I’m so sorry you had to experience that. What got you out of the car?”

Sonja closed her eyes and continued. “It’s in the past. I met Carol, and she gave me a job washing dishes. I kept the cleaning job for a while, too. When she saw how hard I worked, she rented me a room for next to nothing at her house. I got promoted to the kitchen staff because of my cooking skills, andthen I graduated to the wait staff. I never made it to UMKC, but she helped me get an associate’s degree in business from Metropolitan Community College. Later, she gave me a chance to buy into the business and become her partner. Living like I did was bad, but I never did drugs, never had to sell my body. Did I experience hunger and cold? Yes, I did, but homeless people are much worse off than I was. I’m forever grateful to Carol for her kindness.”

“I’m thankful for what she did, too.” Derek’s soft reply sounded genuine. “Okay, so, basically, you didn’t have a father figure as a child and preteen. How about in your teens? A teacher? Any male role models in your life?” Derek continued.

Sonja sighed. “I know you need to know this, but I’m not proud of this episode.” Her mind wandered back to the worst day of her life. The devastation of the moment she stepped into the old kitchen as she saw her gran sitting at the table.

“My grandmother was first diagnosed with cancer when I was twelve. Initially, she had a lumpectomy and radiation. The doctors said she was cancer-free, but that only lasted about a year and a half. The second time, they did a full mastectomy, removed lymph nodes, and she had heavy-duty chemotherapy. She lost all her hair and was in the hospital a couple of times because the chemo made her so sick. When it was over, they did a full-body scan and, again, said she was ‘cancer free’. If I ever hear those words again, I think I’ll puke.”

She scrunched up her face in disgust. “Gran had almost two full years after that without major problems, but the chemo had taken a toll. She taught me to cook so I could take care of meals and such.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she gritted her teeth against them. Her throat ached, and she sighed again before rattling off her secret. “I fell in love with our neighbor when I was fifteen. He was older, sophisticated, and smart. He was different from theboys at school and showed real interest in me. Colton listened to me, gave me advice, and he was there for me.”

Derek nodded but didn’t interrupt, for which she was glad. It was hard enough to tell the story as it was.

Sonja swallowed, surprised the constricted muscles in her throat obeyed. “A week before my seventeenth birthday, I seduced him into sleeping with me.”

Derek’s eyes darkened, and now, hedidinterrupt her, “How old was he?”

The question hit like a slap, sharp and unavoidable.

She knew the answer. She had always known.

But saying it out loud meant acknowledging the full weight of it—of what it really was.

“Derek.” She shook her head, gaze dropping to her hands.

Her adult self had long since dissected the truth. Colton had been a predator. A man in his thirties with no business touching a girl who hadn’t even turned seventeen. No amount of nostalgia or misplaced devotion could change that. But her Little self—God, her Little self still clung to the fairytale, to the idea that it had been love. That he had been the one person who truly saw her, wanted her, made her feel special.

Derek placed a gentle finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Tell me, babygirl.”

She squeezed her hands into fists, nails biting into her palms. “Damn it, what does it matter?” The words came out sharp, defensive—more to protect the past than herself.

But she already knew the answer.

“Language,” Derek admonished. “It matters, babygirl. It’s one thing if he was nineteen or twenty. It’s another if he was thirty. You don’t have to tell me now, but you will tell me sometime soon.” He radiated confidence, and she almost told him then and there.

“Anyhow, when I came home, my grandmother was still awake. I wasn’t expecting her to be up, and I definitely wasn’t expecting her to tell me she would die soon. The cancer had come back, and it was practically everywhere.”

As she finished her explanation, Derek pulled her in his arms. “Oh, baby, no wonder you never slept with anyone else. To have such an event connected to your first time must have screwed with your head.”

Sonja smiled through clenched. “That, and the fact that I had to worry about getting something to eat and somewhere to sleep, soon after, didn’t help, either.”

“No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“So, that’s my story. Now, can you explain to me why it matters for us?”

Derek nodded like he was deep in thought. “In the kind of ageplay we do, the age a Little regresses to is often connected to his or her past. There are several layers to ageplay. For us, I would like to use two elements in our dynamic.”

Derek stroked his beard for a moment. “For one, you have your mindset where you feel happy to let go and explore your sexuality. It makes sense for you to be about sixteen when in that frame of mind. It was the age you had your first sexual experience, but you never had the time and place to explore further. I want you to know you can be that sweet sixteen-year-old babe who is exploring her sexuality. When I know you’re in this headspace, I’ll take care of you. You’ll be safe with me. We can explore anything you want.” He smiled before putting up a stern face. “Although I like a bit of a brat, I expect you to follow my orders and behave for most of the time we’re playing.”

Sonja had to chuckle at that. She was relieved he—at least—liked some sass.

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