Page 65 of Accepting Love

No one here will judge me or think less of me. We’re all just humans, living our lives the way we’re comfortable. Some of us like to submit on a very deep level. Some like to do it part-time. Some prefer to do it most of the time.

I get it. I really do. And I’m so happy I could burst. But at the same time, there is a panic in the back of my mind. Next week I have to go to Daddy’s studio and record my playing. It doesn’t matter that he’ll be with me. His presence or lack thereof has no bearing on my ability to play. It’s his presence in mylife.

Yes, he’s made it easier for me to slide deeper into age play, which in turn is making my struggle to adult harder, but at the same time he’s not responsible for my preferred kink. He didn’t force me to think this way. I was already Little when I met him.

I keep visualizing over and over what it will be like to go into his studio where probably a dozen producers will be watching me closely. They won’t be anonymous audience members with blurry faces in the distance. They will surround me in a small space. I have to put on a front and behave like a grown adult. If I don’t, I’ll embarrass myself and Daddy.

Sometimes I think it might be easier if I make up a fake story about something that’s wrong with me and lead with that so people won’t expect much from me. Maybe I could tell them I have severe agoraphobia or germaphobia or that I’m painfully shy or introverted or a combination of things.

I could do that. I could even let Daddy tell people for me. He could warn them ahead of time. “Yeah, just to let you know, my girlfriend has social anxiety. Don’t feel slighted if she doesn’t speak a lot.”

It could work, but we’d have to build on this weird lie and use it all the time forever and ever. It seems like it would be easier if I just found a way to put on my fully adult vanilla hat and face the world from time to time without panicking.

I’m failing to visualize that though, and my fear is growing, especially after the way I clammed up yesterday at the symphony hall. I was nearly paralyzed with fear and panic, much worse than usual.

I don’t want to hurt Daddy’s feelings by harping on the fact that my anxiety has grown significantly in the last few days since he came into the picture. I don’t want to tell him everything about my feelings for fear he will feel responsible.

He’s not. He’s not the cause of my anxiety. He’s simply the catalyst. It’s not his fault, and no matter what, if I had to choose, I would choose him over my possible embarrassment every day of the week.

I tip my gaze back to look up at him, realizing the other girls have put all the dominos away while I’ve been in my head. He reaches down to stroke my pigtail before squatting next to me and cupping my face. “Are you okay, angel?”

I nod.

He kisses me sweetly. “How about a nap before dinner so you can stay up a bit later tonight and watch the movie without falling asleep?”

“Okay.”

He helps me to my feet.

“A nap sounds like a great idea,” Craig agrees.

Leah groans.

Craig lifts a brow. “What was that you said not five minutes ago about being well behaved for the rest of the day?”

Leah pouts but drags her body from the room alongside him as if she’s being led to the guillotine.

I lean into Daddy, gripping his arm as he leads me out of the library and to our room upstairs. He guides me through the masculine room and into the pink room.

After pulling the covers back on the frilly cotton-candy bed, he pats the mattress. “Sit here so I can take your shoes off.”

I haven’t taken a nap since he entered my life, so this is new and unexpected, but I’ve had a very eventful day, so it’s not undesirable. I flop down on the edge of the bed and lift my feet one at a time so he can remove my shoes.

When he’s finished, he reaches for the hem of my dress. “Arms up, Little one.”

I lift my arms, and he pulls my dress over my head, leaving me naked from the waist up.

“Lie down.” He pats the pillow.

I lie back, uncertain about his intentions.

When he grabs the hem of my leggings and pulls them off next, I hold my breath. It’s odd how naked he makes me feel. I’m left in my panties and socks, and I squirm when he pulls the covers over me.

He sits on the edge of the bed next to me. “Cozy?”

“I’m naked, Daddy,” I inform him.

He chuckles and twirls a lock of my hair. “You’d get too hot under the covers with your clothes on, plus they would get all wrinkly.”

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