Page 13 of Cherishing Little Charlee

Following him into his gorgeous cabin, I oohed and ahhed appreciatively. Pierce had an incredible eye for detail. I grew more excited as he pointed out a huge window seat in the den. Sitting there provided a picturesque view into the lush woods and lake behind the cabin. Stepping onto the back porch, I admired the craftsmanship. It may have been because of my love of set design and crafts or simply to give my mind something else to focus on. Pierce nodded toward the swing offhandedly asif it wasn’t a freaking masterpiece. The two of us could lie down fully on the cushions with room to stretch out. It was lower to the ground and exquisitely crafted. Rubbing my fingers along the wood, I traced butterflies, flowers, vines and bumblebees. I’d never seen such incredible attention to detail. Sure, the finished pieces he’d shown me in the past were amazing, but the swing? The swing left them all in the dust. The longer I stared, the more I loved it. The cushions were customized to fit flush inside the bench style seat while being thick. I wondered if he removed them every night or if they magically stayed looking new.

I didn’t know why the piece spoke to me on so many levels. I avoided swings as a general rule. I’d fallen off them growing up and the kids on the playground had made fun of me. They’d said it was because of my weight. It wasn’t. I had two left feet which had prevented me from getting into dance or gymnastics like some of my friends. Clumsy would have been a compliment. It was like no matter what I was doing, I ended up with some sort of injury. Worse than all that, I hadn’t even been heavy at the time, but barbs burrowed deeply. Swings where you pumped your feet weren’t the same as a porch swing. Unfortunately, the same memories flooded into my brain. I needed to cut it out mentally. I was stocky more than overweight but uncomfortable in my own skin since I’d started crushing harder on Pierce. Admitting he wanted me, or at least had been thinking about sex last night hadn’t eased my nerves.

“It’s so lovely.” My voice cracked.

“Is there something about my swing making you cry?”

“No, it’s not like that. Uh, well it is like that. Can we sit out here for a few minutes?”

“Yes, we can. It’s not that cold out and I have blankets.” Pierce opened a door built into the base. He tugged out two huge sherpa blankets, shaking them out and holding the purple one out to me.

“Thank you.” I eyed the swing and then raised my gaze to him. Without having to explain myself, Pierce moved around me, lying down and opening his arms.

Shaking my head, I hesitated. Somewhere inside my brain I knew the structure was secure.

“It’s comfy,” he said as if the gorgeous space could be anything else.

“What if… you’re not... I’m not exactly tiny.” I tried to ask an awful question stuck in my brain along with justifying my size.

“Lie on me.”

“But–”

“I’m not going to entertain whatever is making your forehead crease, babygirl. Come here. I promise that you have nothing to be concerned about right now.”

Cautiously optimistic I laid down. Not anywhere near him, at least as far away as I could get in a swing.

“Charlee,” Pierce said, sighing. “It’s okay to take up space. It’s okay to exist in whatever shape and form you are. You’ve never acted this way around me. Can you please explain yourself?”

“No, not right now.”

Without warning, though I wasn’t really surprised, Pierce hooked an arm around my lower torso and shifted me until I had no choice but to snuggle into his body. With my nose pressed into the hollow of his collarbone I caught a whiff of something uniquely him. I’d been serious about how good he smelled when I’d complimented him at the cafe. A blend of rich, smoky sandalwood and crisp cedar, laced with a hint of freshly cut pine and warm, earthy leather. Arousal pooled in my body, my pussy growing damp inside my panties from his warm body and the way he held me to his side. I wasn’t a cologne connoisseur, but the combination created a fragrance as rugged as the wood Pierce carved. Maybe even as refined as the craft he perfected. It lingered even when we weren’t together like the memory of hiswell-used workshop, a dash of aftershave and a trace of cologne. His signature aroma plus his pheromones balanced between strength and subtlety. The scent always dragged me back to wondering what it would be like to be wrapped in his arms. And now I was. When had I buried my face into his neck?

“Are you trying to burrow into me, babygirl?”

“No, of course not. You, um, smell like home. I like being in your arms.”

His arms tightened around me as if he was determined to keep me there. “We have a lot to talk about. But I need to understand something first. Why are you acting self-conscious? Have I made you uncomfortable?”

Fretting, I glanced up into his face.Bad idea. His mahogany eyes appeared warmer at this distance and they were locked on me. “You don’t make me uncomfortable. I feel like at my height and weight, I can’t explore ageplay. Littles don’t look like me.”

He looked sad, his brows furrowed as he cupped my face. “Oh, Charlee.”

My statement felt true. Though it wasn’t. I knew and met and interacted with submissives and Littles who were all shapes, heights, and sizes. Besides, ageplay was separate and I knew that too. Yet I’d always wanted to “feel” small. To be cuddled and carried and coddled. A terrible thought wormed its way into my thoughts. I’d placed so much importance on my size that I overlooked the obvious. I ignored the reason behind it. The feelings that had eluded me were suddenly obvious. Cared for. Comforted. Cherished. Pierce, whether knowingly or not, had broken through the impenetrable wall guarding my emotions. Sniffling, I sat up, but he immediately pulled me to him again. Instead of fighting, I burrowed closer. We lay there with me in his arms for a long time not speaking while Pierce stroked my hair.

“I’m a dumbass,” I broke the silence and the tension.

“Say another mean thing about yourself again and you’ll get your mouth washed out with soap.”

“You are not in the sort of position to be responding with a punishment here. Especially not about the things I say regarding myself.”

“Maybe not, but implied consent is good enough between us. Unless it’s a limit, tell me now.”

I took a few deep breaths and let them out. “Crap. I hate when you’re right. Mouth soaping is not a hard limit.”

“Understood. No disparaging remarks, Charlene. Words become things. If you put yourself down verbally or otherwise you will act and feel from those beliefs instead.”

Pierce knew how to get under my skin in the best way possible. His repeated use of my full name instead of my nickname bothered me because I sat straighter. Or listened better. However, lying in his arms while he said it, made me want to cry. Instead, I resorted to tossing my brat at him. I knew how to interact that way.

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