“After breakfast, how about if I braid your hair?” I’ve been working on my skills. It’s in the Papi handbook, but I’m not great at fixing her hair yet. Mostly because it’s so curly that it’s hard for me to get ahold of it properly.
She giggles. “You can try.”
I laugh. “Naughty girl.”
“What’s the green food?” she asks, her feet swinging.
I know she’s excited every time I add a food. Eating nothing but chimspa would get boring in a hurry. “It’s called scorven.” The third food on her plate is orange—talmiac. I added that one four days ago.
“What if I don’t like it?” she asks.
“Then we’ll ditch it and find something you do like, Baby girl. You know that. I will ask that you try it several times first. Every new food is going to be odd to you. Nothing is going to taste like anything you’ve ever had.”
“Okay.” She sighs dramatically. “I really thought the talmiac was going to be like sweet potatoes. It looks just like pureed baby food. It doesn’t taste like sweet potatoes, though.”
I’m not overly familiar with the foods humans eat on Earth. We study them but only in passing because we never eat their foods while we are on Earth, so there’s no really good reason to learn much about them.
I offer her a small bite of scorven.
She scrunches her eyes while she tastes it and swallows. “Hmmm. I think it’s okay. Kind of like a cross between green beans and broccoli maybe.”
I feed her a larger bite, trying not to let myself get nervous. Every Papi has to worry when introducing new foods, but in my case the stress is compounded by her reaction to the formula.
Feeding my mate in her high chair isn’t quite as satisfying as bottle feeding her. It’s not as intimate since she’s not cradled in my lap. But it’s still bonding, especially with her secured in the chair. Her breasts are front and center, tempting me.
They’ll be even prettier after we add the turmerion stones. The next time I feed her, I’ll be able to torment her at the same time by tapping the hoops every once in a while so that they sway and keep her nipples hard.
When her food is gone, I clean up the kitchen and wipe her face before releasing her. I reluctantly set her on her feet when she squirms in my arms. I only let her start walking yesterday. She’s still a bit wobbly but obstinate and determined.
I give her bottom a gentle pat. “Bedroom, Little one.”
“Yours or my nursery?”
“Ours.”
As she heads that direction, I follow her, nearly having a heart attack when she enters the bedroom and starts skipping across the floor.
She makes it about halfway before I sweep down, wrap my arm around her middle, and lift her off her feet. I kiss her neck. “Such a naughty girl.”
She giggles. “You didn’t say I couldn’t skip, Papi.”
I drop her onto the mattress, flip her onto her back, and pin her arms to her sides. “I’m pretty sure skipping falls under the running umbrella. You might fall and hit your head. No skipping in the house. You can do it when we go to the park.”
“I noticed all the other women run and play at the park. You’re saying you’ll let me do that, too?”
“Yes. The grass is soft, and there’s a lot of space. Much safer than in the house. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I release one of her wrists to palm the front of her diaper. “Empty your bladder, Baby girl,” I order.
She squirms.
“Not optional. Do it now for Papi.”
After releasing a deep breath, she squeezes her eyes closed and pees for me. When she wants to be, she’s capable of being well-behaved. I understand perfectly why she chooses to be naughty often, but I think she also senses when I mean business. “Done?”
She nods.
