Big Beautiful Little (8 page)

“Princess, there are some bad people in this world who will take your trust and throw it back in your face. Now, you’re a good girl. You try to give and give. But you can’t give bad people like that a chance to hurt you.” He stood back and looked down at her. “So. Do you want some advice from daddy on how to handle a bully like Nick?”

She flushed with pleasure at how he referred to himself as ‘daddy.’

“Yes,” she said.

“You stand up to bullies,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, you’re going to get on that phone to the finance company and explain the situation. And then you are going to contact a lawyer who can give you the proper steps to repossessing that car…”

She shook her head. “How can I hire a lawyer? Nick’s put me in a financial hole.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“No,” she said adamantly. “You can’t.”

“I can,” he said. “And I am. I’m going to help you out of this mess.” When she began to shake her head, he took her gently by the arms.

“Tiffany, listen. This is who I am. It’s what I do. I want to take care of you, princess. Haven’t you figured that out yet? I want you to be my little girl, my perfect, curvy girl. That means you need to learn how to relax and let me do it.”

She pulled away. “And then what? Have you leave?”

He was quiet for a moment. “And what makes you think I would?”

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” she asked, crossing her arms. “I mean, you know about the lifestyle, about age play.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I had a partner for several years. Her name was Katrina.”

“So what happened? Why did you leave her?”

“I didn’t leave her, Tiffany. She left me.”

Tiffany found this hard to believe, and realized her doubt registered on her face.

“It happens,” he said. “Age-play relationships are like any other. Sometimes the needs of one partner don’t align themselves with the needs of another. Katrina was very high maintenance. We met when she was young. She wasn’t as well rounded as she could have been. There were areas of her life I sought to improve, but she fought me. I think she felt like if she changed for the better, it would mean she’d have to grow up. I could never make her understand that it wasn’t a child I wanted, but an adult women submitting like a child. Those are two separate things. She wanted a man who could control her 24/7 and spank her when she bratted, which was all the time. But I had a business to run and couldn’t give her that kind of attention.” He shrugged. “She found somebody else.”

“She was crazy,” Tiffany said before she could stop herself.

“No crazier than Nick was to leave you.”

Lance leaned in then and kissed Tiffany, the feeling of his mouth on hers a complete surprise. The gentleness of it overwhelmed her. The kiss was soft as her arms tentatively moved up his broad chest to wrap around his neck. But then he pulled her to him and the kiss deepened as he growled against her mouth. His tongue stroked hers as his large hands slid down her body, skimming her curves through the shift she wore and lower still until he was cupping and lifting her cheeks in his large hands. She could feel her pussy pulsing rhythmically, feel her panties soaking as he pulled her to him. Tiffany felt the hardness of his cock pressing into her.

“Is this how all personal trainers operate?” Tiffany asked with a giggle when their lips parted.

“Only the ones who decide to train their women to be the perfect little girl. Are you ready for that, princess?”

Any part of Tiffany that could have said ‘no’ was washed away by the wave of arousal she felt as his arms tightened possessively around her.

“So what happens now?” she asked.

“Now,” he said. “We go back to my place.”

Lance didn’t wait for an answer. There was a wrap on the hall tree by the door and he put it around Tiffany’s shoulders and led her out to his truck. It was late afternoon and the ever-present mist hung over the curving streets that wound their way past the gym and into a nicer neighborhood.

Tiffany’s eyes widened when she saw Lance’s house. Although the gym was nice, he’d not put off the air of a wealthy man. But this house certainly indicated that he’d done quite well for himself. The two-story, Tudor-style home had a classic design with a sharply peaked slate roof. But inside, the house had a surprisingly modern open floor plan.

“This view is amazing!” Tiffany remarked as she walked to the large windows in the living room dominated by a huge stone fireplace. Beyond she could see the mountains shrouded in mist.

“I got the place for a song six years ago,” Lance said. “My friend Trey helped with the renovations.”

She looked back at him in surprise. “You did all this… yourself?”

“Not all of it,” he said. “But I did a lot of it. After seeing so much destruction in Iraq, it was therapeutic to come back and build something.”

“Mr. Fix-It,” Tiffany said with a smile.

“Something like that.” He paused. “I like fixing things, especially things that have value and beauty others overlook.”

“We aren’t talking about houses any more, are we?”

“No.” He walked over and took her in his arms. “You really don’t have any idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

She looked down. “Even you have to admit I need to get in shape,” she said.

“That doesn’t mean I want you skinny.” Lance gave her a squeeze. “You’re a perfect armful for a big man like me. But understand that while I’m loving, I can also be strict. And I don’t ever want you to lie to me again like you did today, understand?”

She nodded.

“Would you like to see my bedroom?”

She nodded again, lowering her gaze and blushing as she did so.

Lance took her hand and led her down a hallway. His bedroom, like him, was masculine, and the view from the window was equally spectacular. The wooden furniture was dark and oversized.

He led her to the bed and sat down. “Undress for me, Tiffany.”

The request took her by surprise. Being restrained over his lap was one thing. But undressing in front of him, seeing
him
see her? The thought of that terrified her.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I want to see you.” When she held her ground, he stood. “Would it help if I undressed you?”

She nodded and Lance gently took her arms from where she’d crossed them across her chest and raised them up.

“Don’t move, princess.”

He lifted the shift up and over her head before dropping it on the floor, leaving her standing before him in just her soft pink, lace-trimmed bra and panty set. Tiffany had her eyes trained on his shoes.

“Look at me,” he said.

She took a deep breath as she raised her eyes to his, expecting to see judgment and revulsion.

“Beautiful,” he said.

“You don’t have to say that.”

“So you think I’m lying?” He took her hand and put it to his cock. She could feel it, large and rock hard through the denim of his jeans. “Do you think I can fake this?”

She shook her head.

“Curves in all the right places.” He smiled as he reached for the front clasp of the bra. As he released it, her breasts tumbled out. They were large, soft, with prominent, rose-colored areolas. They were also far from the perky, fleshy dewdrops of the smaller women Tiffany had unfavorably compared her breasts to. But Lance was lifting them now in his large hands, testing their weight as he kissed one tip and then the other, causing Tiffany to shudder and moan.

“Perfect,” he said.

When he reached for the waistband of her panties, however, she stayed his hand.

“Wait?” she said.

“Don’t be afraid, princess,” he urged. “I want to see all of you.”

“I have… I have stretch marks,” she confided. “The doctor said it was from rapid weight gain after Nick left.”

He stepped back then and stripped off his t-shirt, pointing to a jagged scar, the silvery streak traversing the perfect muscles of his chest and his perfect abs to end just above the waistband of his jeans.

“We all have our marks, princess,” he said. “Yours don’t bother me if mine don’t bother you.”

This time when he reached for the waistband of her panties, she didn’t stop him. He knelt as he lowered the undergarment to her feet and then surprised her by planting a soft kiss atop her pubic mound.

“Step out of your panties and turn around,” he said, and Tiffany obeyed, holding her breath. She was fully exposed before him.

“You have the most beautiful, full bottom,” he said, running his hand over the expanse of one buttock. “I love the deep little dimples just above your cheeks. I’m going to enjoy spanking you for pleasure, and even for correction when you need it. But it’s always my choice, and never yours. Right, princess?”

“Yes… sir.”

He turned her to face him, with the backs of her legs against the bed.

“I think it’s time you called me ‘daddy.’” He punctuated the suggestion by running a finger down her already wet slit, stopping on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her spread thighs and putting just enough pressure there to make her wriggle and whimper.

“Yes,” she said.

A sharp slap to her bottom as he kept the pressure on her clit caused her to yelp and then moan.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes… daddy,” she said.

It did not feel so strange now, saying this. It did not feel wrong. It felt right. It felt good, but not as good as what he did next.

“Daddy’s going to eat your pussy now, princess, and then he’s going to eat your bottom hole. And you’re going to hold still the entire time and not fight him. Is that clear?”

“Oooo, yes, daddy.”

Just his words alone had her dripping as he pushed her back on the duvet. The bed shifted and his large hands were on her hips and then….

Tiffany never knew she could orgasm so easily, but just the pressure of his insistent mouth fastening on the bud of her clitoris pushed her over the ledge where his words alone had already placed her. She bucked back against his face, could feel his murmurs of satisfaction as he kept his oral grasp on her labia. And then his tongue was everywhere, lapping up her juices as he nibbled and suckled and laved.

Nothing had ever felt like this; she never knew anyone could make her feel this good. Before Lance, sex was mildly enjoyable—a physical act of release with whatever man she was dating. But no man had ever touched her so completely, and she realized now that all the things she’d heard about how sex could be amazing with the right person suddenly made sense.

He was lapping the last of her juices now, and moved down to bite first the base of one bottom cheek and then the other—just hard enough to make her cry out. His laugh was deep and throaty.

“You’re so sweet, princess,” he said. “I could eat you up.”

And at that moment, Tiffany felt devoured, consumed. And she reveled in it, crying out anew when he parted the soft, fleshy halves of her bottom to plumb the puckered hole with his tongue. The sensation of his mouth on her most intimate and secret of places had her pussy throbbing anew, and she cried out when one and then two fingers found their way in.

“You’re so wet again,” he said. “And I could just eat you all night. But I think instead I’m going to fuck you. Hard.”

She gasped at this deliciously dominant assertion and looked back to see Lance unzip his jeans and withdraw the largest, most beautiful cock she’d ever seen. It was long and thick and veiny, with a large drop of pre-cum already adorning the tip of the flared head. Tiffany was thinking how she’d like to lick that drop away when—without preamble—he thrust all the way in.

She screamed her immediate pleasure, the sudden invasion so exquisitely unexpected that it nearly took her breath away. Even as his big cock stretched her pussy, its walls gripped him hungrily, and when he began to move slowly and deliberately, she moaned at the sensation of his fleshy length rubbing against the G-spot, driving her wild with passion as he started moving faster.

“That’s it, my little princess,” he was saying. “Ah, I love the way you feel. You’re softness and curves and your daddy loves fucking you. In fact, your daddy may just fuck you every day from now on.”

That was fine with Tiffany, who lost herself in the sensation of yet another orgasm. Lance was a voracious lover, and a skilled one. He allowed her to come twice more before letting go and pumping his hot seed deep inside her.

Afterwards, he withdrew and Tiffany looked up at him through hooded eyes. Seeing him there, looming over her with his jeans resting just below his slim hips, his cock still hard even after their encounter, while she lay naked with his seed slipping from her pussy to run down her leg, was a visual representation of the power imbalance between them. Just seeing him like that made her feel helpless and small.

“Can I get up to clean myself?” she asked, realizing that she was requesting permission—something she’d never done automatically.

“No. Stay put.” Lance had risen from the bed now to finally remove his jeans. She watched from beneath half-lowered lashes. “Why would you want to clean yourself?”

“Um… because I’m dirty.”

Lance turned back.

“What do you mean, ‘dirty’?”

Later she would recall what she missed then—the warning in his voice.

“We just had sex and I’m messy.”

Lance tossed his jeans aside, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. He walked over to the bed, completely naked now. His bare chest was hairless and muscular. He reached down and ran his finger through her slit, still seeping with his cum.

“You mean my seed? You think that’s dirty?”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, trying to rise. But it was too late. Lance had taken a seat on the bed, and before she could comprehend what was happening, he’d thrown her over his lap and started spanking her, harder even than when he’d first spanked her.

Tiffany was howling almost immediately. His broad, large hand landed heavily and swiftly, the burn of the blows turning from sting to sizzle as she kicked and begged and pleaded through tears that now wet the duvet beneath her face. She tried to push off his lap, but he ignored her efforts and raised a knee, elevating her midsection. The blistering smacks now fell on the skin stretched taut between the lower buttocks and thighs. These were the worst, and she cried out to him that she could not take it, that she would die if he didn’t stop, that he was killing her. But he ignored her and continued to spank until Tiffany was limp over his lap.