take some very adult strength to overcome the insecurities she’d packed on along with the weight.
Lance had given her a homework assignment before he’d left to go back to work. They both had obligations, and Tiffany promised to see to the homework the following day after she finished the illustration she’d been working on.
It was the last picture for the latest Rainbow Rabbits book. This book was about sharing, and depicted two rabbits each giving part of their carrots to a third rabbit who’d had hers stolen by a goat who’d crashed their tea party. She’d gray-washed the illustration the day before and was now adding accent colors, humming happily to herself as she worked.
Tiffany was looking forward to finishing the project, and even more forward to getting the much-needed paycheck. Money had been tight since she’d moved to Seattle. She knew it had been a risky step, but she had wanted a new start. What was the saying? Everything is bigger in Texas? For Tiffany, that had been true—the hurt, the disappointment, her size—it had all increased after Nick had dumped her.
She’d turned to therapy as a kick in the pants. She needed someone to help her to let go, not just of Nick but also of what attracted her to him. He’d made her feel feminine, and by the time Tiffany had met him she’d become brave enough to ask for what she wanted—to a point. When she confided that she liked to be spanked, he’d complied. She figured what she craved—real correction—would come later, and maybe naturally. Nick was dominant. Or, at least, what she perceived as dominant. Now that she’d met Lance, she knew she was wrong; there was a difference between being a dominant man who cultivated her submission and an opportunistic snake who exploited her vulnerability.
Looking back, everything had been all about Nick, and she’d let it happen because she thought that was what being a good submissive meant. He’d chosen where they ate, which movies they saw. How much money had she spent funding Nick’s dreams of advancement? When it came time to assume a new debt, Nick had her put it in her name, telling her that once he cleaned up his credit they’d roll everything together. He dangled marriage in front of her, proposing but then refusing to set a date. There was always a milestone to reach. The last one had been the promotion.
Lance was so different. When he talked about her submission, he talked about not just what he expected, but what he would provide—protection, nurturing, guidance. And he’d awakened a need in Tiffany she’d tried to suppress through therapy—the little girl she still felt herself to be.
She’d clung to that little girl inside over the years, bridging her need for whimsy and childlike wonder with life as an adult. She’d parlayed her love for children’s literature into a career as an illustrator. She indulged her love for things fun and innocent—cartoons, Winnie-the-Pooh art and collectibles, My Little Pony dolls—even as she successfully navigated adult relationships and responsibilities. And she’d never felt ashamed of it until Nick had crushed her with his words. With one devastating conversation, he’d made her feel too large and awkward to see herself as the little girl she wanted to be. He’d made her ashamed.
Now Lance was changing that, and the homework assignment he’d left her was helping. The first thing on his list: Research age play.
Tiffany knew about BDSM. She had even done some reading on domestic discipline in the wistful hope of discussing that lifestyle with Nick. But age play was something new. Could it be real? As she perused some of the sites Lance recommended, she found stories of couples that actually lived 24/7 in a daddy/little girl relationship. Reading about actual couples and seeing pictures both thrilled and frightened her. That Lance wanted to familiarize herself with age play filled her with joy. But the unknowns gave her pause; did he want this
Lance had given her a homework assignment before he’d left to go back to work. They both had obligations, and Tiffany promised to see to the homework the following day after she finished the illustration she’d been working on.
It was the last picture for the latest Rainbow Rabbits book. This book was about sharing, and depicted two rabbits each giving part of their carrots to a third rabbit who’d had hers stolen by a goat who’d crashed their tea party. She’d gray-washed the illustration the day before and was now adding accent colors, humming happily to herself as she worked.
Tiffany was looking forward to finishing the project, and even more forward to getting the much-needed paycheck. Money had been tight since she’d moved to Seattle. She knew it had been a risky step, but she had wanted a new start. What was the saying? Everything is bigger in Texas? For Tiffany, that had been true—the hurt, the disappointment, her size—it had all increased after Nick had dumped her.
She’d turned to therapy as a kick in the pants. She needed someone to help her to let go, not just of Nick but also of what attracted her to him. He’d made her feel feminine, and by the time Tiffany had met him she’d become brave enough to ask for what she wanted—to a point. When she confided that she liked to be spanked, he’d complied. She figured what she craved—real correction—would come later, and maybe naturally. Nick was dominant. Or, at least, what she perceived as dominant. Now that she’d met Lance, she knew she was wrong; there was a difference between being a dominant man who cultivated her submission and an opportunistic snake who exploited her vulnerability.
Looking back, everything had been all about Nick, and she’d let it happen because she thought that was what being a good submissive meant. He’d chosen where they ate, which movies they saw. How much money had she spent funding Nick’s dreams of advancement? When it came time to assume a new debt, Nick had her put it in her name, telling her that once he cleaned up his credit they’d roll everything together. He dangled marriage in front of her, proposing but then refusing to set a date. There was always a milestone to reach. The last one had been the promotion.
Lance was so different. When he talked about her submission, he talked about not just what he expected, but what he would provide—protection, nurturing, guidance. And he’d awakened a need in Tiffany she’d tried to suppress through therapy—the little girl she still felt herself to be.
She’d clung to that little girl inside over the years, bridging her need for whimsy and childlike wonder with life as an adult. She’d parlayed her love for children’s literature into a career as an illustrator. She indulged her love for things fun and innocent—cartoons, Winnie-the-Pooh art and collectibles, My Little Pony dolls—even as she successfully navigated adult relationships and responsibilities. And she’d never felt ashamed of it until Nick had crushed her with his words. With one devastating conversation, he’d made her feel too large and awkward to see herself as the little girl she wanted to be. He’d made her ashamed.
Now Lance was changing that, and the homework assignment he’d left her was helping. The first thing on his list: Research age play.
Tiffany knew about BDSM. She had even done some reading on domestic discipline in the wistful hope of discussing that lifestyle with Nick. But age play was something new. Could it be real? As she perused some of the sites Lance recommended, she found stories of couples that actually lived 24/7 in a daddy/little girl relationship. Reading about actual couples and seeing pictures both thrilled and frightened her. That Lance wanted to familiarize herself with age play filled her with joy. But the unknowns gave her pause; did he want this
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