Luckily for her, we reach our destination before I can decide on the latter. Camilla bounces excitedly in her car seat as I get out of the car, but her excitement quickly turns to wilting disappointment when we step onto the sidewalk.
“We’re going to work?”
“No, little one. The office is closed today.”
Brows furrowing with confusion, she follows along, her hand tucked in mine as I lead her through the front door of my practice. “Then why are we here?”
Excitement burns white hot in my veins. “It’s time for your monthly checkup.”
“Oh.” The single syllable is breathless, her eyes wide as we step into one of the exam rooms. “Are you… are you going to give me arealexam? Like you give the other Littles?”
So it hasn’t escaped her notice that I’ve held back. Letting go of her hand, I smile as I reach for my white coat. “Yes, little one. Daddy is going to examineallof you this time.”
“What if I don’t want you to?” The question should sound petulant, but there’s a current of excitement beneath the words that tells me she’s not as put out about the idea of a “real exam” as she pretends to be.
“I’m afraid that’s too bad, my sweet sunshine. Daddy knows best, and if you don’t behave for your exam, then Daddy will have to punish you.”
Because I’m watching her so carefully, I’m able to see the way her pupils dilate. Hear the way her breath catches at my words. And it pleases me to know that she’s going to enjoy this exam as much as I will. I’m still going to hurt her, a lot, but my sweet little masochist will enjoy every painful, humiliating moment.
Even if she’s not ready to admit that just yet.
With my jacket on, I force my expression into stern lines. “You know Little girls can’t properly be examined with all those clothes on, Camilla Joy. Let’s get you undressed.”
“But Daddy, I don’t need to be naked!”
Despite her protests, she’s practically vibrating with excitement as I reach for the pretty pink tutu she chose to go over her onesie this morning. “Yes, you do, little one. And if you keep arguing, you can have your exam with a sore, red bottom.”
She pouts adorably, but doesn’t say another word as I strip her down to just her diaper. “Do you need to potty before we begin, little one?”
Nibbling nervously at her bottom lip, she slowly shakes her head. “No, Daddy.”
Her response isn’t at all convincing. If I had to guess, she’s worried I’ll force her to use her diaper again, so she’s putting it off as long as possible. It’s not an unfounded fear, since other than that one time after the incident at school, I have either used a catheter on her or found other ways of forcing her to pee in her diaper.
Since I did drain her bladder this morning before her bath, I’m not too worried about an infection. And I do have something up my sleeve for the exam that will remove whatever choice she thinks she has, so for now I don’t push the issue. Instead, I lift her up to sit on the edge of the exam table and wrap a blood pressure cuff around her arm.
Just because we’ll both be getting pleasure from this exam, doesn’t mean I’m going to skip out on her actual care.
“Blood pressure is good. Time to take your temperature, little one.”
Some of the color drains from her face. “Can we take it the big girl way, Daddy, please?”
“Absolutely not.” And my blood heats at the prospect of finally getting to take her temperature therightway. “You worked for me long enough to know how Little girls get their temperature taken, Camilla Joy. Roll on your tummy.”
Groaning loudly, she does as she’s told, burying her face in her arms while presenting me with her gorgeous, round bottom. My cock jumps in my dress pants at the sight, and I’m tempted to abandon the rest of her exam and simply fuck her right there on the table.
But I have plans for my sweet Camilla Joy. So I gather what bit of self-control I have left and grab the container of petroleum jelly.
Millie
Okay, I’m starting to understand why my friends hate this so much. Daddy hasn't even touched me yet and the humiliation of being stripped naked, waiting for him to probe my bottom with the thermometer is already overwhelming. And I have the benefit of not having an audience for my humiliation.
Making a mental note to somehow make it up to all my friends, I brace myself for what comes next. The sound of the petroleum jelly jar opening sends a frisson of anticipation up my spine, and I can’t stop the whimper that slips past my lips.
“Shhh, little one. There’s nothing to be scared of. Daddy’s just going to get your bottom nice and lubricated for the thermometer.”
Usually when I instruct the Daddies on how to do this part of the exam, I just have them dip the thermometer in the jelly and slowly work it into their Little one’s bottom. But my Daddy obviously has a different procedure in mind.
His finger, gloved and so much thicker than the thermometer, probes at my bottom hole, forcing its way past the tight ring of muscle at the entrance. Another whimper slips free as I try to bear down, to force my bottom to relax and allow him in.
