The Institute, Daddy Issues(72)

The skirt seemed shorter than I re­membered too but at least there was a pair of panties with it, which I hadn’t no­ticed be­fore. Not that they covered much. They were tiny white lace things with an in­no­cent white bow at the top. The bow con­cealed a small zip­per which pulled down to split the crotch wide open, re­veal­ing my freshly shaved pussy. I re­solved to keep the panties zipped up. I might be play­ing the naughty school girl, but there were lim­its. The white knee socks and Mary Janes com­pleted the look.

I stared at my­self in the sexy get-up feel­ing in­cred­ibly ex­posed. And yet, as vul­ner­able as I felt, I was still glad I was wear­ing this and not an­other little girl dress. I couldn’t take play­ing that age any­more. It was driv­ing me crazy—put­ting me into a frame of mind that was much too easy to slip into and in­cred­ibly hard to get out of.

And what age were you play­ing last night? whispered a little voice in my head. What age were you when Salt was shav­ing you and mak­ing you come with his big fin­gers bur­ied in your tight little pussy?

Well, not the age of the little girl dresses, that was for sure. But neither had I been think­ing of my­self as the re­bel­li­ous teen­ager I was now dressed as.

Hon­estly, I was be­gin­ning to think that the ap­par­ent “age” I was play­ing didn’t mat­ter as much as the mind­set I got into when Salt and I “played” in the first place. When I called him “Papa” and let my­self feel open and trust­ing with him, I went to a dif­fer­ent place—a place of ul­ti­mate vul­ner­ab­il­ity and weak­ness. The place where the hungry little girl lived—the one who missed her father’s love and ap­proval so des­per­ately.

I couldn’t let my­self go there any­more. Couldn’t al­low my­self to be that vul­ner­able for any man—not even Salt. I made stu­pid de­cisions when I was in that place—like let­ting my­self trust…let­ting my­self feel and re­mem­ber all the pain­ful memor­ies of my bio­lo­gical father I’d bur­ied so long ago.

No more, I prom­ised my­self. From now on I’m go­ing to be tough and no-non­sense. I’m only here to do my job and once it’s done, Salt and I are out of here and back to our former re­la­tion­ship.

Think­ing of my part­ner made me won­der what he would think when he saw me in the naughty school girl out­fit. Ima­gin­ing those pale blue eyes rak­ing over my nearly bare body sent a shiver down my spine. He prob­ably wouldn’t like it at all but that was just too damn bad. I was in charge of my own des­tiny here and I re­fused to back down for any­one—even Salt.

Lift­ing my chin, I stepped out of the bath­room…and found my part­ner gone.





Chapter El­even

Salt was already seated down in the din­ing room, eat­ing ba­con and eggs and mak­ing con­ver­sa­tion with Berkley and the other Dad­dies and their Baby­girls. I walked in slowly and heard the con­ver­sa­tion fal­ter as the oth­ers sit­ting at the table no­ticed my new out­fit. My breasts might not be as big as Mandy’s, but they were still full and perky and my nipples were little pink points, clearly vis­ible through the thin ma­ter­ial of my blouse. The skirt I was wear­ing nearly showed my panties—in fact, it would show my panties if I bent over, even a little.

The cool breeze from the air con­di­tioner swept over me, send­ing a shiver down my spine and mak­ing my nipples so tight they ached but I lif­ted my chin and walked up to the table any­way. I felt my stom­ach flut­ter with ap­pre­hen­sion as I ap­proached Salt’s chair. He’d seen me in this be­fore—hell, he’d seen me na­ked. But that had been in private. We were in pub­lic now—how would he re­act to the new mishka?

“Well, well, well.” Berkley’s gray eyes swept over me ap­pre­ci­at­ively. “It looks like your Baby­girl is all grown up today, Mr. Saltanov.”

“Hmm?” Salt spared a glance over his shoulder at me but his ex­pres­sion of mild bore­dom didn’t change. “Oh yes, she is wish­ing to try new clothes today.” He shrugged as if to say it was no big deal.

I felt a surge of ir­rit­a­tion. How dare he act like he was bored when he saw me dressed like this? It was hard go­ing out in this get-up, damn it! The least he could do was say I was pretty.