Master Kellen’s back is to me, but he hears me approach. “You’re late.”
Some defiant side of me rears its head at his tone. “I’m not used to braiding my hair. It takes a while,” I declare in a tone I haven’t used for years.
Master Kellen turns around and heads my way. His brow is furrowed. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”
I chew on my bottom lip and shake my head. He can’t possibly know about me peeking in the drawer. He hasn’t had time to shower, cook, and watch footage from my bedroom.
“Sabine…” he warns.
I say nothing. Is there something else I’ve done that I should atone for?
He closes the space between us, unbuttons the second and third button on my blouse, and then grabs the hem of my skirt and lifts the entire thing over my head.
I gasp as he tosses my clothes on the counter and then lifts me by the waist to set me on the booster seat. It’s the same routine from yesterday, though I’m not sure why I’ve been stripped this morning. Once again, I’m in nothing but my panties and my shoes and socks.
He pushes me up to the island and then turns around to fill one of the two plates next to the stove with eggs and bacon and toast.
My stomach grumbles. I’m hungry. I’m also chilled, and I cross my arms over my breasts in frustration. He hasn’t mentioned why I’m in trouble, but he’s obviously not pleased.
He sets the plate of hot food at his spot out of reach and then opens a cabinet and pulls out a box of cheerios. I watch as he takes a yellow plastic bowl from the cabinet, fills it halfway with the cereal, and then sets it in front of me.
A moment later, he takes a cup from the cabinet, fills it with milk, and then screws on a lid. That is placed in front of me too. “Eat, Sabine.”
I stare at the food. Something is wrong. My stomach sinks. I’m in trouble for sure. Even though I’ve come downstairs as a ten-year-old, I’m being treated like a toddler. The cup is a sippy cup. I don’t have a spoon or milk on my cereal. I’m not offered eggs and bacon. The portion that was obviously mine is still in the pan.
Master Kellen flips through his phone while he eats, ignoring me.
I don’t move. I don’t want dry cereal or milk this morning. I’m angry and cold and naked and furious. So, I don’t move. I just sit there. When he’s done and has the dishes put away, he silently puts my milk in the fridge and sets my cereal on the counter.
He pulls my chair out, lifts me from the booster seat, and walks me toward the corner where I stood yesterday. Without a word, he arranges me exactly as he did the day before, my hands behind my back, my forehead and breasts to the wall, my feet wide.
When he’s satisfied, I hear him pull out a chair at the table behind me and drop down onto it. “I’ve got nothing but time, Sabine. You can stand there until you’re ready to be honest and accept your punishment. I understand that your parents had no rules when you were growing up. I get that they let you get away with anything and everything. But I’m not that kind of Daddy, Sabine. You won’t disobey me. You won’t lie to me. If you do, you will be disciplined.”
I swallow. I’m shivering, partly from the chill in the room and partly from being chastised. I still don’t know for sure what I’ve done. I was late. I was also snarky when I arrived. But what am I lying about?
I stand there for a long time, my legs growing stiff. My arms start to ache too. Finally, I drop them and spin around. “I’m sorry I was late for breakfast, Sir,” I mumble, not meeting his gaze.
“Sabine…” he warns. “Turn back around and face the corner. You don’t have permission to move a single inch until you’re ready to stop lying to me. You came here to learn what it’s like to live as a little. I warned you I was strict. I knew you would probably challenge me. You won’t get away with anything though. So, face the corner and think about your options.”
I turn around slowly, part of me wanting to stop this charade right now. I’m inclined to tell him I’m a grown adult and he can go fuck himself, but I figure I should probably think that over a bit longer first.
He starts speaking again a few minutes later. “You’re not being kept here against your will, Sabine.”
I hate that he hasn’t called me baby girl or little one since I stepped into the kitchen. It’s poignant.
“If you don’t want to live by my rules, I’ll call Julius and have him come get you. This experiment is for you, to help you learn about the lifestyle and hopefully find out something about yourself in the process. If you’re testing me, I suggest you stop right now. You won’t succeed. I’m a firm Dom and an even stricter Daddy. I won’t tolerate a brat.”
“I’m not a brat, Sir,” I argue without moving.
“In the world of Daddies and littles, a brat is someone who enjoys being defiant because they like to be punished. It’s a particular kink. Sometimes they’re whiney. They might throw tantrums. Anything to get attention. It’s a legitimate lifestyle but only if the Daddy they live with likes that sort of behavior. I do not tolerate it. When you’re disobedient in my home, you’ll be disciplined. You forfeit pleasure for that day. Period.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, fighting back tears. I don’t even know why I’m about to cry. I think it’s because I’ve disappointed Master Kellen and I hate that he’s angry with me.
I wait
