Page 19 of Blake

"Soon," Blake said gruffly, urging her towards the comfy corner filled with blankets and beanbags. "First, though, we need to talk."

Savannah nodded and settled into the pile of softness, her green eyes fixed on him with curiosity.

“Wait there a minute,” he said. “I’ll fetch us drinks.”

Blake went to the small kitchenette and began warming up some milk in a saucepan on the stove. While he waited for it to heat up, he got himself a glass of whiskey. Then, once the milk was ready, he poured it into a sippy cup.

"Here," he said, handing her the cup.

She looked at it quizzically. “You want me to drink . . . from this?”

“You’re a Little, aren’t you?” he replied, matter-of-fact, as he sat on a beanbag beside her.

“Well . . . yes,” she replied. “But I’ve never used one of these before. I just wear Little clothes and have a stuffie and sometimes do coloring in. I never thought about taking it further. What if I feel silly?”

Blake frowned. “Taking care of your inner Little makes you feel silly?”

“Well, no,” said Savannah, biting her thumbnail thoughtfully. “I guess not. I just feel a bit strange doing it . . . in front of you.”

Blake smiled. “Babygirl, I’m the one who gave you the sippy cup. I’m a Daddy Dom, remember? There’s nothing I like better than seeing a beautiful woman embrace her inner child.”

Savannah blushed.

“Listen, sweetheart. You’ve been through something traumatic. Indulge in some self-care. Accept my help. Drink your warm milk and be a good girl.”

Savannah seemed to respond well to his commanding words—that was the natural submissive in her, no doubt. Probably not a lot of people who met Savannah could tell she was a submissive, but to Blake it was obvious. That hard-girl act was a line of defense. Something she used to protect the sweet, vulnerable Little who cowered inside her. Blake was determined to make her feel safe enough to let that Little out sometime soon.

"Thanks," she murmured, wrapping her hands around the cup and taking a tentative sip. The warmth seemed to spread through her, and she visibly relaxed, sinking deeper into the beanbag. “Mmm, that’s good.”

“That’ll be the cinnamon and honey,” he said with a smile. He took a swig of his whiskey, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat. "Listen, Savvy," he began, leaning forward. "We're here because we need to trust each other. We can't move forward without being completely honest. So, tell me about your past and what led you to where you are now."

Savannah hesitated, her green eyes flicking to his momentarily before looking down at her cup. "It's not something I talk about much, but I guess you deserve to know."

"Take your time," he encouraged gently.

“I’m an orphan,” she said. “I don’t know what happened to my birth parents, or why they couldn’t look after me. But clearly, I wasn’t desirable enough for adoption. I always hated that movie,Annie, about the girl with red hair and freckles ending up being adopted by a zillionaire. For me, it wasn’t like that. People took one look at me and walked away. All the little blonde kids with dimples went first. The ones like me, and my friend Mia, who had dark skin—well, we were at the bottom of the pile.”

“Fuck,” Blake said softly. “I can’t imagine how deeply that must have hurt for you both.”

“I ended up in foster care,” she said, taking another sip of milk. “My first foster home was kind and loving. In fact, it was all I ever wanted. They were kind people, and they lived in a cute little house in the suburbs. White picket fence. Rose bush on the front lawn. A feeling of being in a family, belonging, maybe even being loved.”

“What happened?”

“I had been there less than a year when my foster mom got pregnant. So, they booted me out in favor of a biological kid of their own.”

“How could they do that?” said Blake, feeling the anger rise in him. “Why not raise the two of you as siblings?”

Savannah sniffed. “Well, they hadn’t actually adopted me. It was foster care—just a temporary arrangement. But then I ended up with this awful family. My foster father was . . . well, he wasn’t a nice man. Not at all.” Savannah sniffed. “Anyway, I ended up there with Mia. I guess this foster family specialized in taking the kids nobody else wanted. It was good to see Mia again, and she became like my little sister. We kinda clung to each other because of the abuse we were both enduring.”

“Your foster father abused you?”

Savannah screwed up her nose and nodded. “Yes. I never really talk about it. Both me and Mia. He hurt us. He forced us to . . . do things.”

Blake clenched his fist. “I see.”

“To cut a long story short, Mia and I ran away. We got caught by the system and put back into care, but by that point, we were wild. Nobody could handle us. They tried to put us back with our original foster father but we reported him to the police. They never did anything about him, but they didn’t put us back with him either. What they did instead was separate me and Mia. They said we were troublemakers. A week later, Mia turned up at my house, completely out of it on drugs. That was really weird because she was always anti-drugs. Then the next day she went missing, right on her sixteenth birthday.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Did you find her? What happened to her?”

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