A/N: Okay, so this is the first book of an original series of mine that's published on Kindle Unlimited. After several requests from a few fans, I've decided to blur the lines a bit and make this book a SwanQueen AU, since most see this series that way anyway. I'm only doing the first book as SQ because it is a stand-alone, plot what plot, story. The rest of the books of this series can be found on Amazon under the author name Calliope St. James.

Triggers: This story has BDSM elements, sexual age play, and MommyDomme\little girl interactions. All the characters in this book are well above the legal age. If this is not something you're interested in, please find something else to read. It has detailed descriptions of sexual acts and is intended for adult persons.

#ageplay #bdsm #mdlg #smut #pwp #littlespace #NSFW #littleone #MommyKink #MommyDomme #Dominant #submissive #kink #fetish

Summary: Meet Emma Swan, a shy and awkward 28-year-old who hasn't quite mastered being an adult. Until she meets a beautiful brunette, which changes the way she views the world and herself. Follow Emma in discovering herself and her new role as a submissive little.

Kirby's Coffee Shop

I met her at a coffee shop. I'd seen her there before. It would have been tough to not notice her because she is absolutely stunning. I changed to this particular coffee shop on a whim, a month or so back. It wasn't that they had better coffee than the place I usually went to, nor did it have better service. To be honest, I just liked the logo on the sign. It reminded me of Kirby which made me nostalgic for my Super Nintendo.

Typically, that's how I make decisions in my life, solely based on stuff that reminds me of other stuff. It doesn't even necessarily need to be related to the stuff I'm choosing. I do realize that it's kind of weird, so I don't exactly advertise that fact. It is merely one of the many little quirks that make me, me.

For example, I've never really settled into the adulting world. Granny says I have an artistic mindset. Whatever that means. I just always thought that she thought I was flaky and just loved me too much to tell me the truth.

Whatever the case, in all of my 28 years on this earth, I've never really grasped the whole 'grown-up' thing. I thought that perhaps one day I would just snap and click into place and would be able to pay my bills on time, without forgetting, or I'd want to clean the house every day instead of play video games or color. The older I got, the more I just chalked it all up to being part of my little quirks. I'm just me. I'm totally cute, immature, and perpetually have an artistic mindset.

The first day I went into my new coffee shop, I noticed her. She was everything I wasn't. She's well put together, in a business suit, with perfect makeup, and salon styled hair. She probably did things like have mani/pedi's with her girlfriends on Thursdays and host barbeques with her husband and kids on the weekends.

The first day I saw her she was glued to her cell phone, and although I admired her other assets, I wasn't able to appreciate her classic beauty until later that week. It seemed as though she had a schedule she adhered to and that particular day, I arrived before she did. It's strange because I hadn't purposefully sought her out; however, I did notice she wasn't already in line or sitting at a table when I arrived that day. It's also, also strange because early isn't really my thing. I don't particularly care for being late however it is, in fact, something that occurs on the regular. I just chalk it up to part of my charm.

That Friday, the bing-bong door indicator chimed, and I turned around instinctively, not being nosy, of course, I just had nothing else to do while waiting in line. There she was, in a navy pencil skirt and matching button-up blazer. She gave me a shy tight smile, which of course made me turn back around immediately, my cheeks burning red at getting caught staring.

I assumed at the time she was used to people looking at her because she is captivating. The whole time we were in line, I could almost feel her closeness. It felt like warmth, and it made me shiver.

Finally, it was my turn at the front of the line, and I felt a little embarrassed taking out my Tweety wallet from my jean's pocket in order to pay. I knew the businesswoman could see the large bright yellow cartoon head of the bird, even though I tried my best to hide it from view. It wasn't something I bought for myself, although I would have given the chance, but was a gift from my younger cousin. She knew I loved Tweety Bird, and well, up until that point, I carried my identification in my back pocket. Consequently, that's a super easy way to lose said ID, and until my totally awesome Tweety wallet came into my life, I had to get a new ID at least twice a year.

I did feel ashamed at that moment, and inexplicably my eyes started to water, and I felt extremely nervous. It was ridiculous, and I scolded myself for the rest of the morning at my misplaced emotions. Why should I care what some random woman thinks of me?

I don't have an answer for that.

In the comfort of my own home, I am perfectly okay with the fact that I still sleep with my evil panda, buy and wear footie pajamas, thoroughly enjoy watching My Little Pony on Netflix, and get all girlie over beanie babies. The businesswoman, however, looked as if she were actually my age, perhaps a little older, but still within a peerage range. Under her scrutiny suddenly my quirks were anything but perfectly okay. Not that I was even sure she was scrutinizing me at all because I didn't make eye contact with her as I rushed out of the coffee shop. I'm just assuming she even saw how childish my choice of wallet was. For all I know, she could have once again been glued to her phone.

I tried to put the businesswoman out of my mind, over the next several weeks. I'd gotten to Kirby's later than usual, not purposeful, at least not consciously, but still late nonetheless. Therefore, I hadn't seen the beautiful woman, but more importantly, she hadn't seen me. I'd all but forgotten the troublesome encounter, when on a Sunday morning of all times, I saw my mysterious brunette once again.

I had no place to be really and woke up unusually early that Sunday morning and decided to walk around the city and take some photos. Photography is just a hobby of mine, and I don't really do anything with the pictures I take. At least thanks to the digital age, I am no longer spending money on film and processing for photos that I do nothing with.

I honestly wasn't expecting to run into anyone I knew, not that I knew the beautiful woman from the Kirby coffee shop, but I'd dressed casually. Far more casual than I normally do when going out into public. When I say casual, I really mean immature.

It was a warm spring day in early May, and I got out my bright blue Tweety Bird coverall shorts out of winter storage. They're easily four sizes too big for me, but they were the last pair that they had on the rack, and well, because they were Tweety, I practically had to buy them! Being as big as they are, they're incredibly comfortable which is exactly what I need while walking around the city aimlessly. I took out my white long sleeve Dr. Seuss shirt, that's much tighter than the coveralls, but it matched in complete cuteness.

The shirt is from one of my favorite books: One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. I'm not 100% sure why I like it so much, maybe it is the rhyming, maybe it just reminds me of my Granny. I don't really know. I don't really think that hard about why I like things, I just do. Since I was already feeling terribly cute, because of the way I was dressed, I put my hair up in pigtails. Then I remembered I'd be in public, so instead, I braided my long blonde hair.

I honestly enjoy feeling cute, even though when other people see how I'm dressed, I feel embarrassed. I just forget that I shouldn't want to wear the things I do or style my hair the way I do, at my age. The fact that my mother always asks me when I intend on growing up doesn't exactly help. Security within my own skin has never been something I've possessed.

It seems to be getting worse, the older I get.

I realized as soon as I saw the businesswoman that I looked all of seven years old, and of course, my face heated in a deep crimson. I sat at a tall round table next to the door in the busy cafe. My feet dangled halfway down the very high chair. I'm not even sure why I chose to have my bagel and juice there. Perhaps I figured it would be easier than carrying it around. It was bad enough I was lugging my camera. On top of everything else, I'm accident prone and would've dropped one or all of the items if I'd chosen to walk with my breakfast.

I ducked my head down as soon as I recognized her. She, of course, looked amazing. She wasn't dressed in her typical weekday suit but still had the air of professionalism around her, with dark pressed slacks and a light gray button-up blouse. I casually turned to look out of the large storefront windows but could still see her in my peripheral vision. She had a tray with her order stacked up and was looking around the busy cafe. Such was my luck, the beautiful woman came over to my table and cleared her throat when I didn't immediately look her way.

I slowly turned and looked into the dark brown eyes of the woman standing over me. I've never felt so small since I'd actually been small.

Her deep voice made my tummy clench when she asked, "May I sit with you, dear?"

"I was just finishing up. You can hab the table." I silently cursed myself for falling into my childish mannerisms, including my cutesy baby talk.

"Nonsense darling, you've barely begun." Her voice was like velvet, and I realized she was still waiting for me to say she could sit.

"Okay," I said and blushed for some unknown reason.

"My name is Regina," the confident brunette held out her hand to shake my own, and I slowly placed my hand in hers.

"I'm… uh… Emma."

"Such a beautiful name for a beautiful girl, Emma," she replied with a bright smile.

I blushed at the compliment because the way she said my name it made me feel, I don't know warm inside.

She asked me about my camera, and I prattled on about my lame hobby while we ate our breakfast. She seemed genuinely interested and asked far more follow up questions than seemed of a polite inquiry. From the moment she sat down, she made me feel safe. I was no longer anxious about how I appeared to this woman; she seemingly accepted my quirks as just a part of who I am. Perhaps I was just so enamored by the woman I didn't have a chance to worry about it.

She's strikingly beautiful, and I caught myself, on more than one occasion, blatantly staring at her. She has high defined cheekbones and full plump lips with a deep scar that cut into the upper right side of her otherwise perfect mouth. It didn't take away from her beauty in the slightest and perhaps somehow added to it. Perfection in imperfection. When she smirked or smiled, I found myself compelled to do the same.

As we were finishing up our breakfast, she told me about her job at city hall. I didn't exactly understand it, but it certainly sounded important and very impressive, and I said as much to her. She asked about what I did for a living, and I explained that I was a bail bonds person and worked from my home.

What I didn't mention was that I preferred it that way because I have a little bit of social anxiety, especially in work environments. I chose this field for its flexibility. I take on jobs freelance and only do so when the mood strikes me. I'm very good at my job, and several companies have offered me a permanent placement, but I honestly enjoy being my own boss.

"Finish up your juice darling," she said to me, and I shook my head in response because I didn't want anymore.

"Emma," she said as if she were scolding me for not finishing my own damn juice!

I shook my head and tried to explain, "It's okay, I usually don't drink it all."

"Then perhaps you should order a smaller size dear. Apple juice is good for you sweetheart, finish up," she said lightly.

My cheeks burned with what could only be the darkest blush in the history of the world, but I picked up the styrofoam cup and finished my apple juice, as instructed.

"That's a good girl," she praised, and I felt instantly better about the exchange and even smiled up at her. I would later berate myself for acting like such a lap dog, but at the moment, it felt precisely awesome.

"Are you full?" she asked sweetly, and I nodded my head silently not quite sure where she was going with it until she asked the fifty million dollar question, "Too full for a chocolate chip cookie?"

I knew my eyes betrayed me at that moment. I never wanted a cookie more in my entire life, for some odd reason, it felt like this woman was offering me Eldorado made of cookie dough, and I shook my head emphatically. With her chuckle her eyes seemed to sparkle then she asked, "I'd like to buy you one, would that be okay with you?"

I was confused as to why a perfect stranger would offer to buy me anything, much less a chocolate chip cookie, which by the way are my favorite type of cookie, but I nodded my permission, nonetheless.

"Use your words, dear," she coaxed with a beautiful red-lipped smile.

"Um… Yes please."

Her brown eyes had me completely captivated, and I was uncertain as to what exactly was going on, but I desperately wanted it to continue.

She stood and cleared away both of our place settings, which made me a little uncomfortable, it wasn't like she was my mother, I could clean up after myself.

All was forgiven, however, when the businesswoman brought back a very large chocolate chip cookie. I frowned when she approached the table, and this prompted her to ask me what was wrong.

"You didn't get one?" I asked in a small voice.

"No darling," she replied as she handed over the cookie. I could feel her studying me as I sat and looked at the treat in my hand.

"But…" I was properly confused and unable to put into words my precise problem with the situation.

"Take your time sweetheart, tell me what's wrong."

"Why didn't you get one?" It wasn't exactly what I wanted to know, what I wanted to know was why she would offer to buy me one if she had no intention of purchasing one for herself!

"I didn't want one dear."

"Oh," I said still frowning.

"Don't you like them?"

"Yeah, they're my favorite," I answered in a confused mumble.

"That's what I thought," she replied seemingly pleased with herself for some reason.

This made me scowl further, but she seemed perfectly content ignoring my confusion. She sipped her coffee with a grin, as I ate the best cookie I've ever had. They're almost as good as Granny's cookies, but we won't tell her that.

We made more small talk, mostly about subjects we had already covered which was fine by me. I was uncomfortable again, and my anxiety was spiking. She seemed to notice and asked if she could walk me out. She held the door for me, which I usually wouldn't have paid much attention to, but it felt like with Regina, every little thing she did was deliberate and precise. Every gesture made me both uneasy and cared for at the same time. It was terribly confusing.

I generally don't like confusing.

We were both headed in basically the same direction, so Regina asked if she could walk with me for a little bit. As confused and anxious as I felt, I really didn't want to part company from her so soon, so I agreed. I wrapped the camera strap around my neck and shoulder, mainly so I didn't drop it and followed Regina to the corner. As we stepped off the curb to cross the street, she held out her hand and, for some unknown reason, I unconsciously took it.

As if I needed to hold someone's hand while crossing the street!

She let go of me once we were safely across, and I felt almost sad she did even though I tried really hard not to show the disappointment I clearly felt. We got to where she was catching her subway to wherever it was she was going, (had I really not asked?) and I nervously blurted out, "I'm 28."

The entire walk, all I could think was she thought I was a child or worse perhaps she thought I was someone with a mental disability. "Like an adult and stuff," I added which didn't help the blush that burned my cheeks and chest.

"I'm 34," she said with an amused smile. "I do realize you are an adult, Emma."

"Oh. Good. I mean I'm not slow or anything either."

She laughed honestly surprised at that; which only made me blush harder if that was even possible. Once she saw the hurt look on my face, and let's face it I was close to crying for some crazy reason, she stopped laughing and instantly apologized.

"I'm sorry Emma, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I think you are adorable," she said and smiled, flashing a bright white set of teeth. I smiled back at her because her smile is totally infectious.

"I know I don't act like it, but I am an adult," I said as I tugged on my corduroy coveralls. Then added in a mumble, "I just like them, and they are comfortable."

It was Regina's turn to look embarrassed, and I suddenly felt guilty for saying anything at all. She must have seen the guilt written all over my face because I am kind of an open book with my emotions. She stepped into my personal space and took my chin in her hand lifting my gaze to meet her crazy dark eyes and spoke firmly, "I am not judging you, okay sweetheart?"

Yeah, my heart pretty much totally melts every time she calls me some cutesy name.

"I would like to see you again if that is something you'd like?" She asked and held my gaze.

I couldn't help it, despite it all, I wanted to see her again, and I certainly wanted to see more of her. She's insanely hot, and her close proximity made my center burn. Even her fingers on my skin felt amazing!

"I- I'm gay..." I stumbled out then rolled my eyes at myself.

Her voice got impossibly lower when she drawled, "Even better." She then shoved something in my front pocket. All I could feel were her fingers inside of my pocket slowly sliding down over my bare thigh.

"Call me tonight when you get home," she said and then pecked a kiss on my cheek. She rubbed her thumb over the kiss spot to wipe off her lipstick. I could still feel her lips on the spot, and that wasn't the only place I was feeling tingly, which made me smile. She held my chin and looked me in the eyes, "I'll talk to you later Emma. Be good."

At the time I hadn't registered what she said; I simply agreed with it and told her I would.