Convincing Leah by Becca Jameson

Chapter 23

Leah

We fall into a routine. It feels good. It feels right. We’re in a cocoon though. I’m well aware of that fact. I just don’t care yet.

I’m little nearly always. It’s shocking considering I had never consciously considered such an idea for myself before a week ago. I’m hiding. I know it. I don’t care about that either. Craig says it’s fine and Master Quinten said it was fine.

I sleep in Craig’s arms every night, and he gently carries me into my room early in the morning before he goes for a run. I like this a lot. For some reason, the big bed feels too big when he’s not in it. I feel snuggly and calmer in my little bed. I always go right back to sleep and don’t wake until Daddy comes to get me.

After breakfast, I work for a few hours, though never as Suzanne. Daddy tells me to let that concern go for now. We can reevaluate later. The important thing is that I’m writing which makes me feel more like myself and boosts my self-esteem. Who cares that no one will ever see it?

Daddy stops me when it’s time for lunch. I find I don’t mind when he interrupts me. My current story picks up right where I left it when I return. After lunch, he puts me down for a nap and then I work for a few more hours in the afternoon until dinner.

We spend the evenings together either watching TV, playing a game, or talking. I like to sit in his lap. I love it, actually. I snuggle into his embrace as if I can’t get close enough. My favorite is when he rocks me in my room while he reads to me.

When I’m naughty, Daddy puts me in timeout in the corner. I don’t like being ignored and left there alone. It’s boring. It’s only happened a handful of times. I’d rather be good. It’s all I know really. Being good.

The important thing is that Daddy has told me over and over that I’m good no matter what. Even if I’m sometimes sassy or disagreeable, I’m still good. That’s hard for me to absorb. Good girls don’t get into mischief. Good girls don’t argue back or use “that” tone with Daddy.

Sometimes I can’t help it, and Daddy says that’s okay.

He spanks me at least once a day. Never when I’m naughty. I like that I don’t choose when. Sometimes he does it first thing, sometimes after lunch, sometimes before bed, and honestly, every possible time in between.

The only hint I ever have is that often when I find myself stressed, wringing my fingers, or pacing, he uses that opportunity to spank me to ease my stress. It works.

Today, it’s been one week. I’m seeing Master Quinten. In his office. Alone. Daddy is waiting outside his office.

It took me a while to decide what to wear. Daddy dresses me every day. Today is the first time he’s made an exception because we were leaving the house. He didn’t give me free rein, but he did offer choices that wouldn’t raise an eyebrow if I pass someone vanilla.

I’m wearing black leggings, tennis shoes, and a gray T-shirt that was in my suitcase. He turned down my request for a bra, but he gave me a long black sweater that’s open in the front in case I get cold. Or more likely, in case I feel like pulling the front together to cover myself better.

I’ve been in Master Quinten’s office for fifteen minutes going over the pleasantries about my week before he starts asking the hard questions. He digs deep into what happened to me when I was five, which is apparently the pivotal moment in my life when things went a different direction.

“Tell me more about how that doctor made you feel when he said you would need to be grownup from then on.”

I shrug. I’m sitting in the corner of a loveseat in his office. I’ve found I love corners. They give me two sides and make me feel secure. “I felt like I had to always be good for my mother so that my behavior wouldn’t make her life more difficult.”

“Tell me how you interpreted that. What kinds of things did you tell yourself constituted bad behavior?”

“Like if I didn’t clean up the kitchen after we ate. Or if I left my clothes on the floor where mom might trip over them. Those kinds of things. I knew it was selfish of me to make more trouble for her. I didn’t want to be irresponsible because there was always the fear CPS would come take me away if I wasn’t good.”

Master Quinten nods. “Selfish and irresponsible are big words for a five-year-old. That’s a time when every child is selfish and irresponsible. It’s part of being five.”

“Yeah. I guess. I didn’t see it that way.”

“Do you now?”

I shrug, fiddling with the hem of my shirt.

“Were you naughty this week while Craig took on the role of your Daddy?”

“Not much. I don’t know how to be naughty.”

“What does naughty look like to you now? In your current situation.”

“Arguing with Daddy about stuff or being sassy or disagreeable.”

“What do you think will happen if you do any of those things?”

“Daddy puts me in timeout.”

“Did he put you in timeout this week?”

“Yeah. A few times. Not many.”

“And how did you feel?”

“Sad that I disappointed him.”

“Did you disappoint him? Did he say that?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“What kinds of things did he say?”

“He said it was okay. Little girls misbehave sometimes. That he would never love me any less when I make poor choices. That he wants me to think about my behavior while I stand in the corner.”

“Did he get angry?”

I shake my head again. “No.”

“Do you think if you were naughty, he wouldn’t want you to be his little girl any longer?”

“No. He tells me all the time it’s okay to not be perfect all the time. It’s just hard for me.”

“Sounds like he’s a wise and reasonable Daddy.” Master Quinten smiles.

“He’s the best Daddy in the world.”

“Do you think maybe you could learn to go easier on yourself?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s hard.”

“How about if I give you a challenge? I want you to do one thing every day that lands you in timeout.”

I gasp as if he’s asked me to jump off the roof.

He chuckles. “Try it. This exercise will help you learn that nothing you do will ever make Craig think less of you. Each time you get disciplined, it will reinforce the fact that you’re still loved until you believe it.”

I chew on my bottom lip, thinking about his words.

“In your heart, you know you could do nothing to drive Craig away, but your mind doesn’t process that correctly. It’s not natural for five-year-olds to be perfect. You did it for so long that it warped your view of what childhood is like. You can take that back now. Reclaim it.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good girl. That’s all you can do. I want to hear about the things you did when you come back next week. I’d like you to keep a notebook. Every time you’re naughty, write down what you did in the notebook and the date. Bring it with you next week so we can go over it together and see how you felt.”

“Okay, Sir.” I open my mouth to say something else, but I can’t put it into words.

He smiles. “Take your time. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Am I having a nervous breakdown?” I murmur.

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m hiding from my life.”

“You told me you’ve been writing again. That doesn’t sound like hiding.”

I sigh. “I’m totally hiding. I’m not writing in the pen name that makes me money. I haven’t written anything in that pen name for over a month now. I have writer’s block, and it won’t go away.”

“Maybe that’s not where your head is right now. Are you saying you have another pen name?”

I look at my lap and fidget my fingers again. “Yes. I don’t publish her.”

“Is there a reason why you don’t publish under that second pen name?”

“Yeah. It’s too naughty.”

He chuckles. “There are a lot of naughty books in the world today. I doubt yours are any naughtier than the rest.”

“Maybe. But… Well, when I write as Suzanne, I’m totally in a fictitious world that doesn’t exist. I have the freedom to make the rules. I create my world however I want and set up a sort of society based on my rules.”

“That sounds like fun. How is it different than when you write in your other pen name?”

I swallow, opening my mouth to respond before I realize I need to think about his question longer before I get defensive.

“Take your time.”

I pull in a few breaths and close my eyes, smiling when I picture myself writing in my new room. “When I’m Lizzy, the stuff I write is…real.”

“Okay. What does real look like to you?”

“I thought it was fake for all these years. I thought it was the same as when I write sci-fi or fantasy. I thought it was made up in my head. But it’s not. Not anymore,” I whisper.

“Is Lizzy little, Leah?”

I swallow and nod slowly. I’ve never told a soul this. My eyes water and tears fall down my cheeks.

Master Quinten leans forward to hand me a box of tissues.

I pull one out and wipe my eyes and blow my nose. But the tears still fall.

“Let it out, sweetie. It’s okay.”

I draw in a sob and then hold my breath to make it stop.

Master Quinten sets his elbows on his knees so that he’s closer to me. His voice is very kind and low. “Why does Lizzy have to hide, Leah?”

“I don’t know. I thought when I wrote that stuff, I was just making it up. Like my imagination. When I let her come out and write under that pen, I thought I was just indulging her. Like she wasn’t me or something.”

“Maybe you thought it was wrong to feel like it was okay to be little.”

I shake my head. “I have lots of friends who are little. I don’t think it’s wrong for them to be little,” I point out.

“But it’s not okay for Leah because she has to be good all the time, not a misbehaving little. Leah has to live by a higher standard.”

I gasp, blinking. He’s right. I rub my temples, trying to process what he’s suggesting.

“There’s no reason to be ashamed of that, sweetie. It’s not your fault. It just happened. The circumstances were out of your control. And I know you don’t look back and think your childhood was bad. You loved your mom, and I know she loved you to pieces. You did the best you could to keep you and your mom together. And you succeeded. You did a great job.”

I smile through the tears. “Yeah.”

“But you missed out on a lot, didn’t you, Leah?”

I nod, wiping my cheeks with another tissue.

“Maybe you create the characters Lizzy writes so that you can pretend those characters are you.”

I sniffle.

“What if you let Leah have some fun? You don’t have to live through your characters all the time. You could also be little. Did it feel good to be little this past week?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think you could do it again this week, only cut yourself some slack? After all, no one needs you to be the adult in the room now. You can be the little girl. Craig can be the adult. I know he wants to help you more than anything in the world.”

I lift my gaze. “For how long? What if I work this out of my system and then I don’t want to be little anymore?”

“You tell me. What do you think will happen?”

I lower my gaze again. “It won’t be fair to Craig. He wants a little girl. If I change my mind, he won’t have a little girl anymore.” I look at Master Quinten. “What if I lose him?” I can feel panic welling up in my chest. This is my number one fear. I try not to think about it, but it’s always there just under the surface.

“Did Craig tell you he wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with you if you decided you didn’t want to be little anymore?”

“No,” I whisper.

“I think he cares far more about you than you give him credit for. Sure, he enjoys taking care of you, but maybe consider that he could love you no matter who you are.”

“Maybe. But what if he can’t?” My voice sounds small and sad.

“Then he’s not the right life partner for you, is he?”

I’m taking shallow breaths, staring at Master Quinten. “That’s so scary.”

“Do you know what’s scarier?”

“What?”

“Leah never finding her true self and taking a chance. Leah living her life wishing she were someone else. Leah not taking a risk and letting herself be little for a while just because she’s afraid it might not be something she wants forever.”

More tears fall.

“That would be very sad,” he adds. “Don’t you think?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Then wouldn’t it be worth it to trust Craig to stay by your side? How about you worry about one week at a time for a while. We’ll meet once a week and I’ll give you new tasks for the next week. Baby steps that will help heal Leah and give you a chance to have a do-over in a sense. Have some fun. Laugh. Play with toys. And be naughty. Get into trouble. Get punished. Clear the slate. Do it again.”

I smile. “I think I can do that.”

“And if you want to keep writing under the Lizzy pen name, I think that will be cathartic for now. I bet it allows you to express your deepest desires, dreams, and secrets.”

“Yeah. It does.”

“Have you let anyone read it?”

I shake my head vehemently. “No. Never.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to. It can be like a form of therapy. Some people keep a journal. For you, it’s stories that make you feel good. Or perhaps just stories that make you feel. Period. Good and bad. They make you feel young. An age you missed out on.”

“Okay.”

“But let me point something out for you to think about.”

I swallow, looking at him.

“Maybe Lizzy has been letting the real Leah have her moments for a long time because that’s who you really want to be deep inside.”

He might be right.

“That’s okay too. You might realize being little makes you happy. There are never guarantees in life. Not for anyone, sweetie. Lots of people in the fetish community go down one path and then change their minds and go down another. It happens all the time.

“Sometimes the couples make it through the transition together. Sometimes they don’t. It’s the same in the vanilla world. People get new jobs or change careers or go back to school or have a baby or move to a new house. They either grow together or grow apart. The important thing is not to live in fear of the what-ifs.”

I draw in a deep breath, feeling much better.

“You’ve got a lot to think about. For this coming week, you have your assignment, right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He stands and comes to me, pulling me into his arms and giving me a hug. “You’re going to be fine, sweetie. I know it. We just need to work through some things.”

I tip my head back and smile at him as he releases me.

“We didn’t talk about your abduction at all. I get the feeling it was a catalyst for all these feelings that have come flooding out and not quite as important in and of itself right now. Not the priority. But, don’t panic if one day you suddenly find yourself remembering that day and the feelings it provoked. Your brain is burying the kidnapping to handle one thing at a time. It might surface at another time, and we’ll manage it when it does.”

“Okay.” I hadn’t thought about that. I hope he’s wrong and I don’t start having nightmares about being kidnapped all of a sudden in six months. What a mess.

I shuffle out to the waiting room to find Daddy.

He smiles and takes my hand, thanking Master Quinten before leading me to the car. He leaves me to my thoughts, and I’m glad because Master Quinten gave me a lot to think about, and I need the drive home to process it.