“Yes, Sir.” I believe him. And I’m equally sure I wouldn’t like whatever he has in mind. I lick my lips. “I don’t want to go to the daycare center though, Daddy. I want to stay with you. Why can’t I stay with you this morning?”
Daddy has a meeting he has to attend in town. I’m not permitted to go. It’s for grownups only. I’ve been to the daycare center before. It’s a perfectly fun place. I just don’t like to be left there.
“And I’ve explained to you it can’t be helped. You don’t always get what you want, Little one. Sometimes, you have to do things you don’t like. This morning, I need you to be a good girl and not give the teachers at the daycare center any grief. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” I murmur in defeat.
Thirty minutes later, I’ve been checked into the daycare center, and Daddy kisses my forehead. “Be good,” he admonishes. As he leaves, the woman at the front desk, Sheila, asks him when I last ate and when I might need to be changed. He glances at me before turning back to her. “She’ll be fine until I get back. If she’s wet, she can wait.”
I swallow. His decision is a double edge sword, and he knows it. On the one hand, I don’t like other people to change me, and he’s doing me a favor. On the other hand, I’ve had both my morning bottle and a juice bottle so far today. I wonderedwhy he gave me so much to drink in addition to oatmeal and a banana.
The thought of being left in a wet diaper for several hours makes me feel the urge to pee already. I sigh as I wander over to a table where several other Littles are coloring. At least if I focus on crayons and a picture for a while, I won’t have to think about wetting myself or how long it might be until Daddy returns.
Two hours later, I can’t hold it anymore, and I find a beanbag chair to lie on with a book and soak my diaper. It’s another hour before Daddy returns.
Luckily, he seems like he’s in a good mood, and he immediately takes me to a changing room and gives me a new diaper.
He’s smiling, so I assume his meeting went well.
When we get back to the house, he takes me straight to the bouncy seat he’s recently acquired. He lowers me onto it, straps me into the three-point connection that comes around my waist and between my legs, and then confines my wrists to the sides. He added that part after we received it.
Sometimes he turns it on, and it vibrates, driving me mad with arousal. Today, he pulls it in front of the couch and sits down facing me. I realize he’s done this to ensure my full attention.
I squirm, but this new addition to our home is one of the latest total bondage devices. I wouldn’t be able to escape it if I tried for hours. It heightens my sensation of confinement far beyond the playpen.
“Time to talk, Little one.”
I sigh and force myself to meet his gaze. I knew this was coming. I caused it myself.
“What’s bothering you?”
I look down for a moment, trying to imagine what I should say. On the one hand, I need him to know how stressed I amabout returning to the mainland. On the other hand, I don’t want to sound ungrateful and whiney about the amazing summer he just gave me. We have to go home. I know this. I need to get a job. He needs to return to his office.
“Does your recent behavior have anything to do with the fact that we’re scheduled to leave the island in two weeks?”
I flinch, though I shouldn’t be surprised he guessed about my mood. “Yes, Sir,” I murmur.
“Would you like to talk about it like a big girl? Or did you plan to misbehave for the rest of our stay here and spend each day standing in the corner with a sore bottom?”
I shudder. I’ve done that a lot lately. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” I realize I can’t even cover my face or wipe my tears that are about to fall. I don’t have the use of my hands.
“I know you’re sorry, but I’d still like you to talk to me about your feelings instead of throwing toys, pushing your food on the floor, and having tantrums.”
I wince. I’ve done all of that. It’s not like me.
“Use your words. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
I have to tell him. Even though it’s not fair and I feel bad, I still have to tell him what I’m thinking. “I know there’s nothing we can do to change it, but I don’t want to leave the island. I like it here. I’m worried about assimilating into our old life on the mainland.” There. I’ve said it.
He reaches out and strokes my thigh. “Thank you for being honest, baby girl. That wasn’t so hard was it?”
“It kinda was. Because I don’t want to sound ungrateful. This was a wonderful summer. It was a true gift. You helped me find a new side of myself, and you forced me to finish my thesis. I’m so relieved to have it done. I know we have to go home. You have your work, and I have to get a job. I’m just sad because I don’t want to leave. I like it here.” My lip starts to tremble. I’m going to cry.
“Why do you have to get a job, Little one?”
It’s an odd question, and I’m not sure how to respond. “Because that’s what people do after they graduate. They work.”
He chuckles. “Is that what you want to do? Work? Teach?”
