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“And does she need Daddy’s help getting ready?”
More nodding.
“What a good girl you are for telling Daddy what you need.” He drew off her towel, then crouched at her feet, holding out the panties. “Put your hands on Daddy’s shoulders for balance. That’s it.”
She lifted one foot, then the other, so he could put her panties on. He drew them up her legs and kissed her mound lightly.
“Such a pretty baby.” He held out the bra and she slid her arms through the holes. Then he did it up at the back, even adjusting the cups. “Is that comfortable?”
Another nod.
She had no idea why she couldn’t find any words. But she was content just to answer him like this for the moment. And he appeared to enjoy taking care of her.
Her dress went on next and then the cardigan. Finally, he had her sit so he could put on her sneakers. Then he took hold of her hand and led her to the full-length mirror.
Oh wow.
She looked adorable.
Well, except for the mess of curls on her head. She reached up to tug at them, pulling so hard that tears entered her eyes.
“Hey, easy. Be careful with my baby.” He lightly smacked her hands. “No hurting yourself. If you need pain, I’ll be happy to give you what you need. However, you won’t be hurting yourself.”
Oh, that was so generous of him.
But she nodded.
“You don’t have to worry about how you look because Daddy is going to take care of you. From now on, when you’re in Little headspace, I will choose what you wear. What you eat. What you do.”
Her breathing quickened, and she slid her thumb into her mouth to comfort herself.
Because she wasn’t sure if she was excited by the idea of giving him that much control.
Or utterly terrified.
“At least to begin with. Because I think you need me to take over most of the time, don’t you, baby?”
No. Nope. Uh-uh.
“To take all that weight away so you don’t have to make such trivial decisions. Or any decisions.”
Actually . . . sometimes it would be nice not to make the decisions.
And it was so hard doing it all.
Especially when she didn’t trust herself anymore.
“Come with Daddy. I’ll get dressed and then do your hair.”
37
Her hair was a fucking disaster.
Reuben stared down at the mess of curls, moving around to stand in front of her. His stomach dropped as he saw tears in her eyes.
“Baby, fuck. Did I hurt you?”
He’d tried brushing the curls . . . but he swore they looked worse than when he’d started.
