Page 12 of Stripping Little Seraphina
She leaned back against the couch, giving me room again. “Now tell me what boundaries you need, beyond the paper. Time? Privacy? Words I should never use?”
It took me a moment to find my voice. “Privacy, yes. My family can’t know. Not yet. And I don’t like… being called baby. Or princess. It feels fake. Maybe someday, but right now… I’d rather Seraphina. Or Sera.”
Mistress V inclined her head. “Sera, then. Until you choose otherwise. What about babygirl?”
The way she said it—like it was my choice, not hers—made my chest ache in a way I didn’t expect.
“I like it.” I swallowed hard and whispered, “And you?”
Her brows rose. “Me?”
“What are your boundaries?” I asked, surprising myself.
For the first time, she hesitated. “My son always comes first. That won’t change. And I don’t mix my work stress into scenes. If I’ve had a bad day, I won’t take it out on you. Ever.” Her jaw flexed. “And I expect honesty. Even if it’s ugly. Even if it makes you afraid.”
I nodded slowly, feeling something settle between us. A fragile thread of trust, maybe. Or the beginning of one.
“Sometimes I want to just sit with you curled in my lap and not talk. My escape would become you, and all I expect in return is for you to enjoy yourself. If you don’t, tell me.”
“Yes, Mistress.” I spoke so low that I was afraid that she didn’t hear me. When I looked up and into her eyes, something burned there between us. She definitely heard me.
The quiz sat between us on the rug, the mostly eaten picnic between us, the weight of everything unspoken humming in the air.
Though the fire seemed to be rock steady between us, staying lit in the atmosphere, we didn’t say another word for what felt like eternity. Part of me wanted her to lean forward and stoke it. The rest of me was trying to think of the quickest way to exit this suite without walking past her.
Mistress V was going to be trouble and every fiber in my being welcomed the challenge.
Chapter Four
Seraphina
I curled my legs under me on the blanket, my plate long forgotten while Mistress V leaned closer, flipping the quiz back to the questions I’d markedyellow.
“Okay,” she said softly, her finger tracing one line. “Roleplay—teacher and student. You marked yellow. Tell me why.”
My cheeks heated, but I forced myself to look at her. “Because… it sounds fun, but I don’t know if I’d freeze up or if it would feel too forced.”
She nodded, expression calm, thoughtful. “That makes sense. Yellow means maybe, depending on how it’s done. That tells me you’re curious, but you need safety first. Good girl.”
The quiet praise hit me deep, like a spark in my chest. I exhaled shakily.
She turned another page. “Discipline with implements—you marked red for canes, but yellow for paddles. Why the difference?”
“I think… the cane feels too harsh. Too much like punishment. But a paddle—” I chewed my lip. “I don’t know. Maybe it could feel playful? Less… cruel.”
Her smile was approving. “That’s excellent self-awareness. Red means hard limit—absolutely no. Yellow means we talk, negotiate, and proceed with care. You did exactly what you were supposed to.”
We went through more of my responses, with her listening more than talking. Every so often, she’d ask me to explain, or she’d make sure I understood that a “no” was always respected. It didn’t feel like an interrogation—it felt like someone finallysawme, and wanted to make space for every corner of who I was.
By the time we’d moved to likes and dislikes, the heavy knot in my chest had unraveled.
“I like structure,” I admitted. “Clear expectations. But… I don’t like humiliation. Not really.”
“That’s good to know,” she said. “Structure we can work with. Humiliation stays off the table.”
Our conversation flowed easily after that, like we’d slipped into something that wasn’t just a negotiation—it was a date. She made me laugh, she teased me gently, she even handed me the last cookie from the plate with a grin as if she knew she was spoiling me. I couldn’t ignore the warmth blooming between us, the way my body reacted every time she leaned close or praised me.
But I didn’t dare name it. Not yet. Not until I was sure I could trust her.
