Little Missy Comes Home

Financier Melissa Rothwell’s the shortest, smartest shark in the New York pool, and keeping her guard up is exhausting. Under Dirk Manley’s firm hand, she can let her hair down—and let him braid it into pigtails. Dirk’s her big, she’s his little Missy, and he’ll take care of her. He’s the man of the house, and he knows best.

For two blissful weeks, Missy will stay at Dirk’s dairy farm, where all his Dairy Maids are her “aunties”, ready to help her transform into their beloved little. Spandy smooth and in a fresh diaper, Missy can’t wait to see him.

Oh what a great homecoming this will be.

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"... And of course you won’t need these.” She hmphed at my bras and dropped the rest of my lingerie back into the suitcase. “In fact, the only thing we’ll allow you here is the toothpaste.” She shut the bag again and shoved the entire case into the closet. “We’ll have to dress you now, of course. What you’re wearing will never do.”

My Jil Sander suit would do perfectly anywhere but here. I slid the jacket from my shoulders and handed it over.

“Good girl, now the skirt.” Auntie Patti watched me with an encouraging eye as I peeled the fabric of the rest of my life from my skin. “Tsk, tsk,” she clucked and unsnapped my bra. “You certainly don’t need this.”

The scraps of lace slithered down my arms, exposing my little titties. They sat high on my chest—gravity had nothing to tug on, and a bra was more for decoration than support, but adults wore bras. And now I didn’t. My nipples stood perkily to attention in the cool touch of air, making pink exclamation marks on my chest. Auntie Patti turned me around—I crossed my arms over my chest, hands covering my tiny breasts. The stiff peaks pressed saucily against my palms.

Auntie Patti peeled my hands away, examining my chest critically. “You’ve been playing with them again, haven’t you?”

Well, of course. Anything that felt so good… But from her voice, I couldn’t tell if she thought that was good or bad. I hung my head. “Y…yes.”

“We’ll have to check with your Daddy to see if you’re allowed to do that.”  She pinched both nubs, sending a shot of pure flame to my clit.  I moaned softly. “Our little naughty girl probably plays with her pussy too.”

She hadn’t let go, and now she flicked her fingers rapidly against my hard nipples.  I knew better than to try to bat her hands away—Auntie Patti had spanking privileges.

“S…sometimes.” Every night. A lot less complicated than dealing with a partner who was neither as kind nor talented as my Daddy.

“Dirty little girl.” She caught my nubs again between thumbs and forefingers, rolling them thoughtfully. “We’ll see what your Daddy says about that.”

I knew what I hoped he’d say—something like “Daddy has to watch,” but then, he might decide I needed my bottom warmed instead.

***

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