Page 26 of Stripping Little Seraphina
I stopped outside one of the themed rooms and peeked in. My breath caught. This wasn’t the coloring corner or the tea table setups I’d seen before. Though those were fun too. No—this one was something else. The walls were plastered with posters of bubblegum pop stars and boy bands, strings of fairy lights twinkling across the ceiling. A clothing rack stood off to the side, filled with plaid skirts, ripped jeans, and hoodies in every neon color I could imagine. There were sneakers with glitter laces and a shelf full of shiny lip glosses. Let’s not forget the t-shirts with cartoon scenes on them. Had I died and gone to heaven?
It was a teenaged dress-up room. But I’d never seen it before. I couldn’t remember a place set up for anything like this before. I exited to see that this was a multi-purpose room, but it wasn’t set up for multiple things. It gave off as being a showroom for a specific audience. I reentered and continued browsing, wondering how I’d missed such a wonder.
My fingers brushed against a pink hoodie with floral sleeves long enough to swallow my hands. My heart thudded harder. I could picture myself in it—posing in front of the mirror, twirling like some silly girl with nothing better to do, laughing in a way I hadn’t in years. And then, unbidden, came the image of Mistress V standing in the doorway wearing one of her very Daddy-like suits, watching me. Her smile steady, her voice low and warm as she told me I looked cute. That I was hers.
Heat flooded me so fast I dropped the hoodie back onto the rack like it had burned me. My thighs pressed together as need drummed in my groin. I stepped out of the room quickly, pulse hammering in my ears. An image popped into my mind of Mistress V’s head between my legs making the ache go away. Her soothing the desire that had kept me on edge all day. Would she do that for me today?
I needed air.
I wandered until I found myself in front of the theater room. There was a list of movie times and two movies I didn’t recognize. The door was cracked, so I slipped inside. It was much bigger than I would have guessed. I knew it was here, but I hadn’t been able to go inside during my original tour because it had been in use. For whatever reason, I hadn’t thought much about it until now. Now I was curious. There was a concession stand of sorts with candy, bags of freshly popped popcorn, and a cooler with drinks inside. I wanted to grab snacks and a drink, but I hadn’t been permitted to touch anything in here. I was told to observe things, and I’d already broken that rule by picking upthe hoodie. The big screen was dark, but I didn’t need a movie playing to feel the magic of the space. My mind filled in the blanks—cuddling up under a blanket, snacks balanced on my lap, a stuffy tucked against me while someone I trusted sat right by my side.
Not someone.Her.
My stomach twisted. Would she make out with me here? Touch me in here? Hold me? Laugh and joke while we watched cartoons and ate snacks? I left before I could sink too far into the fantasy, but the damage was already done. I wanted to come back with my Mistress V. On my way out, I saw a sign that mentioned “Movie Nights Under the Stars”.
I bet that’s so romantic.Fun, too.
By the time I made it back to my suite, I was a mess. Restless. Fidgety. Every nerve in my body felt on edge, humming like I’d had too much caffeine. I tried reading. I tried scrolling through my phone. I even tried grabbing a snack, but nothing helped. The ache only grew worse. Both in my chest and down… there.
Finally, curled up on the couch with my stuffy crushed against my chest, I whispered the truth into the quiet of the room.
“Because I miss you, Daddy.”
The word slipped out before I could stop it. My eyes went wide, my cheeks burned, and I slapped a hand over my mouth like I could shove it back in. But it was too late. The confession hung in the air, heavy and electric. And it was true. She was Daddy in every way that I knew of. I’d done research after she’d given me the titles of ways to address her, because I’d wanted to see if there was a system of rank or a specific etiquette for each. Turns out that it’s a preference unless in a formal situation where it's required. Mistress was how she was addressed to show her role as dominant. Everyone who encountered her in a lifestyle setting would call her that. I wanted something special.Madame sounded like something I wanted to save for tea time and special dates. But Daddy felt like something just. For. Me. No other submissive would have a reason to refer to her as such. And as her trainee, I should feel special.
Trainee. Mentee.
Tears pricked my eyes—not because I was sad, but because saying it out loud made it real. My chest ached, my thighs squeezed tight, and I buried my face into my stuffy like it could protect me from the storm I’d just unleashed inside myself.
I didn’t just want Mistress V. I wantedmy Daddy.Not so much as a temporary thing either. I couldn’t imagine somebody else calling her that. Maybe before me, but after me… I didn’t want to think about afterward.
And I had no idea what to do with that.
I wished the ground would swallow me whole. My cheeks were on fire, my chest tight, and my whole body hummed with restless need. Whispering that word—Daddy—out loud had opened something new inside me, and now I couldn’t put it back. I couldn’t close it. What was I supposed to do now? How was I supposed to face her knowing that I was much more invested than I should be. I felt like we’d been together for months not for days and I was already this attached. Terror alarmed everything inside me from my hair follicles to my toenails. Mind, body, and my freaking soul. This was too much!
The sound of the door unlocking jolted me upright. No! She couldn’t be here right now. As much as I’d missed her, needed her, and desired to just curl up in her lap, I was too raw with emotion to be able to address her. She’d know everything before I spoke one word. Tears were coasting down my face like they were being freed from a traffic jam.
Panic tore through me. I scrambled to wipe my eyes, hugging my knees close, trying to look like I hadn’t just been caught talking to myself. Or like my entire world hadn’t just beenflipped upside down. The tears continued streaming and the more I tried to control them they simply flowed faster.
“Little one?” Mistress V’s voice was low, calm. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
I froze. I should have ran into the bathroom before she’d gotten inside.
Her gaze landed on me instantly—on my blotchy face, the way I clutched my stuffy like a shield, the way my body trembled even though I tried to hold still. Her brow furrowed, and she crossed the room with steady steps, like she already knew something was wrong. See! She’d probably heard me call her Daddy from wherever it was that she’d gone. She was here to torture me even more with her looks of concern, searching eyes, and steadying aura. Screw me if she wasn’t sexy in her denim shorts and collared shirt. Her locks were twisted in a funky way off her shoulders and up in an almost bunlike way. Sexy as hell.
“What’s this?” she asked softly, crouching in front of me. Her hand brushed my knee, firm but gentle. Then, as if she wasn’t already creating war inside me, she kissed my knees and watched me with the patience of a saint.
My throat tightened. I shook my head, unable to speak.
She tilted her head, studying me. “You’re flushed. Teary. Worked up.” Her voice dropped, coaxing and firm at the same time. “Tell me, sweetheart. What’s going on in that adorable head of yours?”
The lump in my throat grew unbearable. My lips parted, but the words stuck. All I could manage was a strangled whisper. “I… I missed you, Daddy.”
Something flickered in her eyes, sharp and warm all at once. She leaned closer. “Missed me?”
I nodded quickly, heart racing.
“And what did you call me just now?” she pressed, her tone calm but unyielding.
