Page 3 of Soothing Little Sylmen

Meanwhile, I was stuck in a studio all hours of the night, pen and paper in hand as I pondered over what my own happy ending would look like.

It was different than others. I was particular about my interests. Being kinky was different than a typical relationship. You couldn’t just walk up to someone and say, “Hey, do you like the idea of age regression?”

It wasn’t something I could put in a bio on a dating website either.

In fact, most people probably didn’t know what it was unless they happened to be friends with someone in the lifestyle or had done some research at the time. It was a closed-off community. We were private, and though I had been to different clubs in different cities and even made friends, I had never found my person.

Part of it was my ungodly work hours. The other was just because it was really fucking hard to find someone who wanted to submit to you 24/7.

I know it sounds terrible—wanting to dominate someone all day every day could be a bit narcissistic and even controlling. Except I didn’t want to control another person’s actions. It was more about giving them the freedom to just be. I wanted to take all their worries and cares away, to provide for them. To feed them and help them change their clothes. To give them a space where they could play and be free. To sleep easy.

I craved it like no other. Every time I had committed to a scene in a club or happened upon someone through a friend of a friend, they were only Little part of the time. I didn’t begrudge people that choice—we had to do what was right for us. It just meant that we weren’t fully compatible.

I’d worried for a long time that I would never find anyone who understood me. And then I’d met Amelia. What had started as research for a song project turned into a friendship. We’d spoken at length, and through earning her trust, she shared with me that she was a librarian at a ranch that focused on the kink lifestyle.

Since then she had encouraged me to come visit her. It was invite only, so I had to use her name to get in. No amount of money or fame would buy my way—not if Master Derek, the Ranch owner and the person who vetted everyone who came through the gates, had anything to say about it.

“I promise that you are going to be fine,” Amelia reiterated. “This person you want, this 24/7 Little, is just waiting for you to find them. We’ve had a number of applicants recently. Someone could be perfect for you, and you’ll never know if you keep going on tour or sitting in musty rooms trying to find the perfect rhyming words.”

I rolled my eyes. “You make me sound like some sleazy guy. I’m crafting magic here. You know this.”

The project we worked on together had gone on to become triple platinum. It earned many award nominations and a few wins. I’d been sure to thank her in the credits, though she really didn’t want any acknowledgement. She had cultivated her life at Rawhide Ranch. That was enough for her.

For me it was important. As a woman, I’m sure people overlooked Amelia, and as a librarian, I’m sure they also fetishized her. I didn’t like to see people not get credit where it was due, and I really, really appreciated all the help she’d given me.

“You know my schedule is packed,” I started.

She clicked her tongue. “Actually, according to Corrin, it’s not going to be for the next couple of weeks.”

I froze, the shirt in my hand hanging loosely. “You spoke with Corrin?” I asked slowly, unsure how I felt about this revelation.

Amelia hummed. “I did. He and I had a nice little chat when you wouldn’t respond to me the other day. Apparently you had left your phone around and when I called for the millionth time and it went unanswered, he spotted it and called me back.”

That little—I didn’t finish the thought, because I didn’t really feel any negative way about it. We all had an open understanding on tour. Our phones were pretty much fair game. As long as you didn’t open text messages or photos it was fine. We often shared notes about song lyrics or had different apps to help us tune a guitar or play a specific segment. My voice notes were in the hundreds, and I regularly had to move them over to store them in separate places after waking up in the middle of the night and humming a tune I thought would be perfect for a song, only to find out later it was not.

“What did Corrin tell you?” I asked, my voice steady as I eased down onto the bed. I needed to sit for this conversation. Whatever she was going to say next would change my world—I inherently knew as much.

Amelia was a force to be reckoned with. It’s what made her good at her job and why the song did so well. She didn’t let me skate by. I had to earn everything. As a Daddy Dom, I appreciated it. It kept me on my toes, but it also reminded me how much I wanted someone of my own to care for. Someone I could guide and lead and challenge.

“Corrin said that things had been a bit hectic lately and he wanted some time off. He and Austen are planning a romantic getaway. When asked how long you’d be available, he suggested that you would have a week-and-a-half to two weeks. I figured that’s plenty of time for you to come stay for a few days, get a feel for the place, meet some people. If you hate it, you’re free to leave. No one’s going to keep you prisoner. But if you love it, well, things could change for you.”

Her voice softened and my heart swelled. “You’re a good friend,” I told her.

“I like to think so,” she replied, her voice even. “And as far as things go, I spoke with Master Derek. He will rush through your application if now is the time you want to come. I don’t think you should put it off. Really. Something in my gut says you need to be here.”

While other people might think it weird to trust another person’s gut intuition, I knew better. Because in all the sessions I’d worked with Amelia, her gut had been the thing to truly bring out the next level in the craft. Her instincts were spot-on. If she thought that me being on the Ranch was a necessity, then I should probably listen.

“I need to double-check with Corrin. But if you’re right, then I will get to packing, I guess. And submitting an application. Isn’t that what you said I needed to do?”

I could hear her clapping on the other end of the phone, which made me chuckle.

“That is exactly what you need to do. I will text everything over to you. Don’t you worry, and I’ll let Master Derek know that you’re putting it in⁠—”

“Hey, hey, take a breath, Amelia,” I said, laughter in my voice. “You don’t have to do everything right this second. Send me the forms, then go talk to Master Derek when you have a chance. I doubt I’ll have them ready in the next couple of hours anyway. I’m still tackling this laundry.”

“You and your laundry,” she teased. “Anyway, I will let you go then. My work here is done. I’ve convinced you and now it’s a waiting game. But don’t wait too long.” Her tone was fierce.

I chuckled. “Of course not.”