But not only would that be wildly unfair to the man I love, I have no idea if June would evenwantto be my Little girl full-time. We have fun together, and she breaks for me so beautifully week after week. But the demands I would place on her if she lived with me twenty-four-seven…
It would take a very special Little girl to flourish under my rule.
And yet, even though I know she can’t be mine, not the way I so badly want, the thought of her spending time with another woman makes me see red. Literally. I’m not so naïve to believe that she abstains from playing with others when I’m not around. But when I’m here, she is mine, and she’s about to be reminded very forcefully of that fact.
Schooling my expression into serene lines, I approach the small bar where my princess is still grinning up at the new Mommy seated beside her. “Hello, Juniper.”
She turns to me, and the way her blue eyes brighten at the sight of me soothes the beast in my chest a little.
But only a little.
“Mommy!” Squealing with happiness, my June-bug throws her arms around me and squeezes tightly. When she pulls back, her bottom lip is pushed out in an impressive pout. “You’re late. I thought you forgot about me.”
“Hmm.” Gripping her chin, I force her head back, delighted when her eyes widen with that hint of fear I love so much. “And here I thought it was you who’d forgotten about me.”
I deliberately slide my gaze over to the woman watching us with rabid curiosity.
“I apologize. I didn’t realize she was spoken for.”
“Well, she is. At least on Wednesdays. Isn’t that right, princess?”
“Yes, Mommy.” A blush creeps up my Little girl’s neck as she offers the interloper a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I should have told you.”
“It’s all right. I should have realized such a sweet Little thing like yourself would have already been snatched up.” The woman rises from her stool and smiles, a smug sort of grin that has the beast in my chest snarling once more. “I’ll be around later this week, though, if you aren’tspoken foron Fridays.”
She isn’t. It’s part of our agreement that Wednesdays are our days, but outside of that, June is a free agent.
And yet, the urge to rip the other woman’s still-beating heart from her chest wells up inside me, so strong I have to breathe through the seething fury.
Unfortunately for my Little girl, the breathing exercises only do so much. Taking her by the hand, I tug her off the barstool and toward the room I’ve reserved for the evening.
I have every intention of making sure that by the time we leave tonight, my little princess remembersexactlywho she belongs to.
Juniper
Mommy ismad.
And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me deliriously happy to see her acting so possessive of me. Just like with my Daddy at clubRestraint, I know Mommy’s ownership of me has limits,but it still makes me all gooey inside to know she takes that ownership so seriously, regardless of how limited it might be.
I do feel a tiny bit guilty for provoking her the way I did. I learned early on that Mommy doesnotshare and that she gets very, very jealous if I so much as look at another woman on “her” nights. But after learning my Daddy most certainly has someone he goes home to every night, someone who isn’t me, I desperately needed to feel like Ibelongto someone.
I have a feeling I’m about to get what I wanted… and that I’m probably going to regret every second of it.
Pushing open the door of “our” room, the one we have a standing reservation for every Wednesday night, Mommy ushers me inside.
“Are you wearing panties, little girl?”
“Yes, Mommy.” Unlike Daddy, my Mommy loves it when I wear panties. What shereallywants is for me to wear a diaper, but since I refuse to regress that Little, she settles for solid white cotton panties that cover my whole bottom.
“Good girl. Go put your nose in that corner with your dress up so Mommy can see those cute panties.”
Ugh, cornertime. Ihatecornertime, and she knows it. Dragging my feet, I make my way over to an empty corner and position myself as instructed, holding up the layers of tulle and silk of the dress she bought me as a Christmas gift.
Behind me, I can hear her moving around, and my heart trips in my chest as I try to imagine what she has in store for me.
Finally, after what feels like hours in the corner, she calls for me. I turn, and I swear that same heart stops beating entirely at the sight that greets me.
My Mommy is a stunning woman even at her worst. But dressed in nothing but a few scraps of purple lace holding up her generous breasts and covering her pussy, with little strapsattached to the sheer black stockings that stop at mid-thigh, she is absolutely breathtaking.
