Rose looked at the two dresses laid out across her bed. One was a stunning gown; he must have bought it especially. It would look perfect at a ball; she would have the men eating out of her hands. Beside it was a short frock in light pink. She looked back and forth between them, trying to decide what she wanted. Did she want to please her parents or her Papa? It was a choice that hurt her head the longer she thought about it. She stood immobile for minutes on end, moving her eyes from one dress to the other. Back and forth. Again and again.

She had spent the day trying to decide and was still no closer by the time Mama arrived in her room and told her that Papa was waiting for her in the dining room. She wondered if her parents would be waiting there too. Did she dare wear the little frock in front of them? What would they say? Had he told them of the choice he had offered her? Were they waiting same as him to see which life she chose to live?

“Are you not dressed yet?” Mama asked, seeing her pacing back and forth on the rug. “You will be late.”

“I don’t know which dress to choose.”

“Go with your heart,” Mama said, kissing her forehead. “Always go with your heart. Grown up or little, you can always do far worse than following your heart.”

Rose waited until she left before picking up her chosen outfit and changing into it. She walked swiftly downstairs, trying to keep her hands from trembling. All the way to the dining room, she wondered if she should go back and change. Finally, it was too late, she was there. Pushing open the door, she walked in, not sure what the reaction would be.

“Good evening,” Papa said, nodding towards her. “How are you, little Rose?”

Rose looked down at the frock, taking the hem in her fingers and playing with it whilst shuffling on the spot. “Want to sit on your lap,” she muttered.

“Speak up, little Rose, I cannot hear you.”

“I want to sit on your lap, Papa.”

“Sit and eat first. Your dinner grows cold.”

“Don’t want to.”

“What did you say?”

“Don’t want to sit and eat, want to sit on your lap.”

Titus scraped back his chair, walking slowly round the table towards her. “If you don’t sit down, you will be punished.”

“Don’t care.”

“Oh, don’t you?”

His hands fell onto her shoulders and she gasped at his strength. He shoved her towards the table, bending her over it and yanking up the back of her frock. “No nappy, no knickers,” he snapped. “You are a naughty little Rose, aren’t you?”

As he began to spank her, she sighed with happiness, becoming increasingly certain she had made the right decision. Each touch of his hand told her that he loved her. There was a tenderness to each smack, the way his fingers lingered on her behind, stroking it softly as it reddened and burned with heat, it could not be pretend. She grinned as he continued to spank her. “You find this funny?” he snapped.

“No, Papa.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

“Because I am falling for you.”

His hand froze in place on her behind. “You are?”

“I am.”

“Eat your dinner.”

“Must I?”

“I do not want you complaining of hunger later tonight. I have much planned for you.”

She sat and ate, staring at him across the table as she did so. After two full days of nothing but bottled milk, she had forgotten how good solid food could taste. It tasted rich, almost too rich. By the time she was done, Titus had already lit up a cigar, puffing away at it whilst she dabbed at her lips with a napkin.

“Walk with me,” Titus said, leaving his cigar behind to take her by the hand. Together they strolled through the house, Rose happier than she had ever felt before, holding the hand of her Papa. “You have done well these last few days,” he said after a lengthy silence. “I am most impressed by your behaviour.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

“And I am very glad you chose to be little this evening.”

“Me too,” Rose said, squeezing his hand.

They had reached the bottom of the staircase and Rose’s heart soared as they began to ascend. Was this it? Was he to take her? She wanted to ask him but dared not, thinking she might scare him away if she did so, break the spell of this perfect moment. When they reached her bedroom, he walked straight past, taking her instead into his room. “Come sit on my lap,” he said as he sank into the armchair by the fireplace.

Rose leapt up onto him, curling up as he picked up a book from beside the chair and began to read. As the story unfolded in her head, she put her head on his chest, feeling his free hand moving gradually down to between her legs, seeking out her core. She moved her thighs apart just enough for him to softly stroke her folds whilst he finished the story. She sighed happily, listening to his heartbeat the entire time.

“Stand up,” he said at last, putting down the book.

Rose leapt to her feet, eager to please him.

“Take off the frock.”

She pulled the dress up and off her shoulders, standing naked before him a moment later. She watched as he pulled something out of his pocket. She realised it was a blindfold when he wrapped it around her face, covering her eyes. She heard the rustling of clothing, her mind fervently wishing it was the sound of Papa stripping out of his clothes.

She jumped when his hands touched her breasts a moment later. As he circled her nipples, his face pressed to her neck, kissing her softly. “Don’t move,” he muttered, his lips moving up to her ear, nuzzling the lobe whilst she did her best to keep her breathing under control.