“Then I suggest you do as you’re told. One.”
I may be well into my twenties, but I still know what it means when an “adult” starts counting. So I scramble up onto my knees, and if I splash a little more than necessary in the process it’s really his fault for making me rush.
Sighing, Daddy shakes his head as he looks down at his soaked clothes. “If this keeps up, I’m just going to have to bathe with you from now on.”
Well, shit. That’s the last thing I want.
Isn’t it?
Heat flares to life between my thighs at the thought of this strict, gorgeous man naked in the bath with me. Holding me tight against his chest as he runs his soapy hands over every inch of my skin. Down to my pussy, running his fingers between my lips to my aching clit.
I’m so caught off guard by the unexpected fantasy, it takes me a moment to realize it’s not entirely in my head. While Daddy isn’t in the tub with me, his fingers are in fact inside me, stoking the fires of my need with slow, exploratory strokes.
Squealing in shock, I lurch forward, but there’s nowhere for me to go. No escape from his questing fingers.
“Shh, little doll. Daddy needs to make sure you’re nice and cleaneverywhere. Including this pretty little pussy.”
“I can clean myself!”
“Nonsense. Little girls don’t give themselves baths. That’s Daddy’s job. And what’s this?”
Horror fills my chest, a pressure I’m sure is going to either split me in half or smother me when the tips of his fingers find my clit. Pleasure races through my veins, followed closely by shame and humiliation.
How can I be enjoying anything this man is doing to me? This monster who drugged me and kidnapped me right from my own apartment? What the hell is wrong with me that I can feel anything but disgust when he touches me?
“My pretty little doll,” he murmurs, a hint of awe in his voice. “So wet and needy for Daddy. Your poor little clit is so swollen. Do you want Daddy to make you come, little one?”
“No!”Yes, god, yes. Please.
“Really?” Now there’s amusement in his tone as his fingers roll my aching clit, driving me closer and closer to that horrifying edge. “Are you sure about that, Isabella? Think very, very carefully about your answer.”
To my unending shame, I hesitate. Just for a second, but it’s long enough for more of that burning shame to flood my body. Because there should be no hesitation, no second guessing. My answer should be clear and immediate.
“I don’t want you to fucking touch me,” I manage to whisper, tears clogging my throat
It’s both a shock and a relief when his fingers go still on my clit. “Very well.”
His voice is ice cold now, and despite the warm water still lapping at my thighs, a chill runs down my spine. Pulling his hand away, he leans over to open the drain on the tub before rising to his feet and lifting me from the water.
Even though I can tell he’s annoyed with me, his hands are gentle when he wraps a fluffy towel of emerald-green around me. When I’m completely dry, he picks me up again and carries me back to the bedroom I woke in this morning, where he lays me down on a thick pillow of sorts.
Smiling down at me, he pulls a thick and heavy band across my stomach, securing me in place. There’s something not quite right about his smile. A hard edge to it that tells me the pain and humiliation I’ve already suffered this morning are just the beginning.
“Time to get you ready for the day, my pretty little doll.”
ChapterFour
Gideon
A delicious mixture of fear and curiosity swirls in Isabella’s wide, amber eyes. Her pupils are still blown, telling me what I already know—my Little girl is just as turned on by our play as I am. My cock strains against my dress pants, and a desperate need claws at my chest as I look down at the naked, helpless form in front of me.
How easy it would be to pull my aching cock free and slide it between her pretty, glistening pussy lips. The changing table was built for just that purpose, to allow an eager Daddy all the access he needs to his Little one.
But my family has its traditions, and I know Isabella’s uncles and her Auntie Cat would be devastated if they missed that first claiming, so I force myself to wait. There is no tradition, however, that says I must wait to claim other parts of Isabella’s sweet body, and I warm myself with that knowledge as I open the top drawer of the changing table.
Inside are various items meant to help soothe a fussy babygirl. Pacifiers with different designs, suppositories full of calming medicine. But what I am in search of is something different altogether, an item that can be used for both punishment or pleasure.
It’s poor Isabella’s bad luck that she chose to lie to me, and so her first experience with this item will be a punishment rather than the alternative.
