Her chin dropped to her chest. It was easy to still see her curling in on herself.
“I know, as do your coworkers, that you’re hurting right now. Life hasn’t been easy for you, from what we’ve gathered, and the last thing we want is for you to lose your job.”
I didn’t miss the way her shoulders lifted the slightest bit at the mention of work. I was relieved. I had hoped the possibility of keeping her position would help sway her toward what I was going to suggest.
“I don’t want to… I don’t mean.. I…” She trailed off. I waited for her to gather her thoughts. My heart broke for the poor Little girl. Her life had been so unfair. She had been raised in a cult her parents founded, and then forced to marry as a young teen. The man, her husband, who had been almost three times her age, had done some really terrible things to her and his other wives. She’d run away with her twin sister before she was even legally an adult. She’d never told us these things herself, but her sister, Emily, had. She worried about Rouge’s healing as much as I did.
Kneeling in front of Rouge, I took one of her hands in mine. “You don’t what, Little one?”
I intentionally used the phrase I knew she despised. As expected she snatched her hand from mine.
“I’m not a Little.”
“You are, Rouge. I know it and you know it. What I don’t know is why you’re so vehemently against it.”
“I’m. Not. A. Little.”
“You are so good to the Littles. Even on your angriest days, you never use your sharp tongue with them. You hold them, read to them, give them stickers, you even let them climb on you like a jungle gym.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m a Little. It just means I tolerate them.”
“Rouge.” She flinched at my tone and I worked to rein it back in a bit.
“They don’t deserve my anger.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re vulnerable in that space. It’s hard to give yourself to someone like that—to love people that big. They need to be protected.”
“How do you know that, though, Rouge?”
She didn’t answer.
“I think you know that because you can relate to them, because youareone of them.”
She fidgeted, but eventually answered. “I scene at the club. It’s easy to be open-minded to their needs.”
“No, I don’t believe others view it that deeply, even others in a BDSM relationship. I think perhaps they think the Littles are cute or silly, another form of a submissive. They respect them in the kink, but they wouldn’t understand how hard it is to ‘be vulnerable’ and ‘love someone that big’ unless they knew it on a personal level. I believe that’s why you’re so protective of them too. You know what you need and you reflect that in how you take care of them.”
“You said something about n-not losing my job,” she deflected.
“I did. I’m going to give you two options and the weekend to think about them.”
Finally she looked up and met my eyes.
My stomach flipped around and I rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. “The first option is I let you go as an artist. It would kill me to do so, but you’re a danger to yourself and to others.”
Looking away, she flushed and nodded. “O-option two?”
“You become my submissive for six weeks.”
“What the fuck!” she exclaimed, trying to shoot from the chair.
I pressed her back down with my hands on her shoulders.. Her hands instinctively reached up to pull at her hair. Gentlygrabbing her hands, I lowered them back into her lap. “Take a deep breath and let me explain before you get the wrong idea.”
“I can’t get thewrongidea because there’s not a damnrightidea to get.”
“Nothing sexual. I’m not even asking you to be a Little. I’m asking you to submit to me for six weeks. Let me guide you. Let me work with you to help you get your anger under control. Give me time to show you there are other ways to handle bad feelings.” I’d butchered the speech I’d practiced. My gentle way of explaining my proposal had gone straight out the window along with my confidence.