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Once he was out of earshot, Kylie turned back to her. “You read the stories and decided you wanted to try it out yourself? Is that how you ended up on LittleLife?”

“One of my favorite DDLG authors put a link to her KinkLife profile at the end of her book. I joined and within a few weeks, found the LittleLife board. I tried my hand at writing a short, serialized story and it was so fun! A couple of weeks into writing on the board, I met a few other people who identified as Littles and ended up being invited into a group chat with them. After chatting for a bit, we exchanged numbers and talked and texted constantly. Like, several times a day. At first it was wonderful…” She trailed off and closed her eyes remembering.

The first months as their friend had been amazing. She felt like she’d finally found her crew. People who truly accepted her for who she was, who would cheer on her victories and pick her up from her falls. To this day, she sometimes found herself longing for the feelings she’d had in the beginning ofthe relationship. She never thought adult women would act like middle schoolers.

When she’d first found the boards, it felt like she was the new girl in school. Then, when the most well-known women on it reached out to her, it felt like she’d been invited to sit with the cool girls at lunch. Her life was like a scene from a movie. The cool girls were playing a cruel prank on her. Nice to her face, only to mock her behind her back.

“There’s sadness in your voice… why do I have a feeling this story doesn’t end well?” Kylie asked.

Makenzie shook her head and continued to speak her truth. Something she'd never done to anyone but an anti-kink psychiatrist who believed BDSM was a mental illness. “After months of talking, I flew across the country and met two of the girls in person and they became my besties. In a short time, I was closer to them than anyone I’d ever met. They were great. They challenged me to be a better person. I confessed my secret desires to shake up my mundane life by trying new things, but confessed how I lacked the courage to do so. They helped me to make a plan to try one scary new thing a month. With their help, I was able to be brave and step outside my comfort zone. For a year, I was happy. Truly happy. I felt like I found my people. It was nice to finally feel like I belonged somewhere. I spent most of my life chasing my older brothers and never truly made close friendships. I had friends but nothing like this…” Makenzie stopped again and took a few more drinks of her coffee. It wasn’t the traditional liquid courage, but the warm drink gave her an excuse to pause and catch her breath.

“I know how that feels. When I was in the Army, I never fit in. There weren’t many women in special forces. Only nine percent of special operators are women. Several of my coworkers' spouses thought I wanted to sleep with their husbands. They were jealous when I got to be with them during deployments andthey didn’t. They didn’t understand we weren’t sitting around playing pool, we were fighting for our lives. Those women and, even some of the soldiers, thought all female soldiers were either whores or lesbians. There was no in-between. Now, don’t get me wrong, there were a few coworkers I was friends with, but I had to be careful. More careful than my male counterparts. I’ve been betrayed, too. But this is about you and I am interested in your story. I tell you this so you understand I can relate.”

“Thank you for sharing. I understand what you mean. You aren’t relating with me to make it about you, but to share that you can empathize.” Makenzie did the same thing, sharing similar experiences to relate to other people. Everyone had a different communication style, and she wouldn’t judge anyone else who was actively listening for the way they showed they cared.

“Exactly. Sometimes, people think when another person shares a similar experience during a conversation, that they are trying to one up them or make the conversation about them. In reality, it’s how I communicate that I understand what you are saying. I’m not trying to be rude; I’m trying to connect. I have ADD and I know my brain works differently. They didn’t diagnose me until after I left the military, but it’s been eye opening for me. Learning how my brain works has cleared up a lot. Anyway, you were saying the women challenged you to go outside of your safety net.”

“Yeah, they encouraged me to make a list. Then, once a month, I would cross one item off. We’d Facetime when I would try something on my list, and it was like they were there with me. The first month, I went to a BDSM club, the next month I attended a bottom’s support group. Some things on my list were a bit lighthearted. For instance, I had a phobia of pickles. So, one month, I tried a different pickle once a week. Turns out, I liked fried pickles a lot, especially dipped in buttermilkranch. Unfortunately, now I can’t eat them without thinking of these women. They taught me how to use positive affirmations. I made a vision board forecasting how I was going to move from working my mundane job to working my dream job. With them, I felt I could do these things. Their support gave me the boost I needed…”

“We all need good friends who encourage us to get out and live life,” Kylie said.

“We talked about BDSM and DDLG. I couldn’t decide if I identified as a Little or a Middle, because I’m like a mix of both. Sometimes I love being a Little, and other times, I really want to be a Middle. But Jamie said I couldn’t be both, I had to just pick one or the other. She told me I was a Little and that was that.”

“Who is Jamie? Was she one of your two close friends?” Kylie asked.

“No, Jamie was their friend that they introduced me to. From the start, I felt like she didn’t like me. The others would tell me it was all in my head, that Jamie just had resting bitch face. They convinced me I was paranoid and making things up. I don’t know why I went along with it. She made me so uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to lose my two close friends. I thought if I just put up with her treating me poorly, I can stay friends with them.”

“Oh, man. I hope you know now that no one deserves to be treated poorly, no matter what. You don’t tolerate disrespect and meanness from anyone.” Kylie said, leaning closer and putting her hand on Makenzie’s knee. “It doesn’t matter who they are. Blood related, friends, coworkers, or supervisors. Being treated with respect and dignity is a basic human right.”

Makenzie blinked hard, keeping the tears at bay. No one ever told her she deserved respect before. “I just wanted someone to tell me what to do. I craved a Daddy Dom and didn’t have one. Jamie kind of was the boss of all of us. We called her Miss Bossy Pants behind her back. After she told me I was a Little andonly a Little, I bought a stuffy, a coloring book, and some other toys. For the first time in my entire life, I felt like I could be myself. These women understood me. They didn’t judge me for my interests. The happiness I felt…” She paused and took a big bite of the delicious strawberry cream cheese filled crescent. It took her a second to get her emotions in check. Even after all this time, it hurt to talk about the betrayal she’d felt when her best friends turned on her.

“So you were friends with these two girls you liked and the third person in the group was Jamie?”

“Yes. Jamie didn’t like how nice her two best friends were to me. I think she saw me as a fourth wheel, an intruder. She was used to topping these women. What she said, went. She allowed opinions if they agreed with hers. She manipulated them to believe they were being allowed to have a say, but I recognized her tactics. She even disciplined the two women, but I wouldn’t let her discipline me. I don’t swing that way. I don’t judge women on women relationships, whatever makes them happy, but it wasn’t for me.”

“She disciplines them?” Kylie raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, even though they are married, and their husbands don’t know.”

“I am never big on people keeping secrets from their spouses,” Kylie said with a frown.

“Me neither, but they aren’t my spouses. I think lying to your spouse is worse than being honest and getting a divorce. Who wants to live a lie? It’s awful to both the person committing it and the spouse. She tried to discipline me, too, but not like spanking. I wouldn’t allow it. I wouldn’t allow her other punishments, either but, if I didn’t do it, she’d remove me from the chat and forbid the others to talk to me until I did. I missed my friends, so I would just do whatever she said.”

“That’s complete bullshit. She’s controlling and manipulating.” Kylie sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Part of me wants to find this bitch and give her a piece of my mind. I won’t, because I hate drama, but I wish someone would.”

“It isn’t hard to manipulate submissives, most of us crave approval. We want to serve and to submit, thus the name.” Makenzie giggled. “Things got bad when my stories on LittleLife became more popular than hers. She’d been writing them for years and I was a newcomer. Sometimes, she would tell me I was the shiny new toy, and the shine would wear off. We had a writing competition based on likes. When I won the story of the month contest, she became very angry. There were many reasons she told me I won, none because of my writing. In fact, she told me I was the worst writer in the group, and I should stick to accounting. She would fluff up the other two with praise and constantly berate me.”

“Jamie sounds insecure,” Kylie said. “Probably comes across as a know-it-all expert but her work doesn’t bring about the fruits that an expert should be producing. I know the type.”

“Definitely. Mentoring others but if she was so good, why didn’t she ever succeed herself? She started to tell the girls passive aggressive lies about me. She analyzed everything I said and did and turned it all into negativity, even when I never meant it bad. I thought I was safe with them to express my real feelings, but when I did, she would say I wasn’t being supportive or I was a Debbie Downer, or whatever… and she blatantly lied about me.”

“I am so sorry, Makenzie. I can tell how much she hurt you.”

“I didn’t understand. I would tell the girls how much she hurt my feelings and they would justify her actions. They would tell me things like, ‘That’s just how she is, she didn’t mean it’or‘she’s just blunt but if you listen to her, you will grow.’Theyconstantly devalued my feelings and dismissed them. When they talked to her about it, she always denied it and then she would attack me for calling her out. They called me paranoid more times than I could count.”

“No one should ever feel like their feelings aren’t valid. Your truth always matters. If something happens and you feel bad, you get to express it. Please tell me if I ever hurt your feelings, okay? Sometimes, we need to learn how to communicate in ways that are healthy for everyone involved,” Kylie said softly. “I learned my ADD and PTSD can cause me to react in ways that hurt others. I’m learning how to recognize my triggers and respond appropriately,” Kylie said.

“I appreciate it. Truth be told, I hate confrontation and am incredibly uncomfortable with conflict. I learned to keep my feelings to myself. The continuous telling me I was wrong, and paranoid made me start to believe them. It was all in my head, she was fine, I was the problem. Interestingly enough, Jamie would go to them and complain about me. They didn’t have the same response. Instead of dismissing Jamie’s feelings like they did mine, they would validate her and call, then jump down my throat and accuse me of being awful. Even though she really was taking what I said out of context. When I would try and defend myself, she would turn it back on me every time.”