He bends down and kisses my ear. “Good girl. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Ayres takes the cuffs off my ankles.The urge to ask Kronos where he is going keeps me still. I almost say it, but Ayres catches my attention.
“Little kitten, move slowly when you get up.” I try to move, but my body is too weak. The nerves tingle within me as my back sends a sharp pain through me. My arms and legs ache with my efforts. I cry out, already exhausted.
“Stop, little kitten. I’ll get you.” I sigh in relief. I don't know if I can make it to the bathroom on my own. As he picks me up, a scream rips through me as his arm touches the wounds. The pain is sharp and cutting deep within me. I burrow my head into his chest and cry as he carries me with one arm supporting my back, the other behind my knees in a bridal carry.
Ayres chuckles. “Shh. Little kitten, Daddy has you. I've got you, kitten. I’m going to make it all better.”
He turns the light on in the bathroom. I don’t know why I expected it to be extravagant. It’s quite boring. Wood and porcelain. A toilet is on the far wall next to a free-standing sink. On the wall to the right of the door is a claw foot tub. I say nothing about how bare it is in here. I don’t think that would go over too well. I am scared this is a dream. Ayres sets me down on the toilet as he fills the tub with water.
“Relieve yourself and then you can have a nice warm soak.”
The blush creeps along my neck and to my face as my urine flows from me. I’ve never thought about how embarrassing it is to use the restroom in front of someone. Ayres stands in front of me with toilet paper in his hand.
“Spread your legs.”
He’s looking at me in a different way. It’s quite hard to place until I recognize it. Until I see the gentle glow in his eyes and the hateful smirk is gone. I blush as I ever so slowly spread my legs for him. He wipes my body clean. I’ve never felt such gentleness.
Ayres has always made me scared of him. He’s nothing but wild and psychotic. Looking at him now, I notice the crooked way his nose sits on his face. Those lips of his are curved in a soft smile as he tugs my face up to look him in the eyes.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper. I have no idea why calling him Daddy turns me on. Or why every time he calls melittle kitten, it gives me a rush of excitement.
“You’re welcome, my sweet kitten needs a little pampering. Now, flush the toilet, and I will help you bathe.”
I stand and flush the toilet. The idea that I feel like a little girl and Ayres’s approval is what I crave wrestles with thoughts of how cruel he can be. He helps me into the tub.
“I searched multiple stores to find that sugary cinnamon flavor. I believe I found it, Kitten.”
He holds the soap to my nose letting me sniff. I beam at him. “That’s perfect. Thank you, Daddy.” A giggle erupts from me as Ayres smirks with happiness.Why do I feel special? And why in the hell am I giggling?
As I settle into the tub, bubbles and warm water hit my back. I gasp and try to sit back up, but Ayres holds onto my shoulder.
“Shh…” He strokes my hair. “The pain will pass. It’s only temporary. Focus on how good the water feels everywhere else, and let me wash you.”
I begin to cry. Ugly, deep gut-wrenching sobs. I blame it on the confusion and not understanding the things passing through my mind.
“Sweet Kitten,” Ayres mumbles as he brings the cloth along my arms. “Daddy’s here now. Let me take care of you.”
The need to be cherished and taken care of begs me to let him. To allow all of this to happen and to stop questioning myself. I shake with the power of his gentleness.
“Daddy,” I whisper. I’m lost in the moment. The need to satisfy something deep within my soul.
“Yes, Kitten?”
As the sobs slow, I reach out and touch him. His face is smooth except for his thin beard.
“I’ll be good, I promise.” I don’t know if I am trying to convince him or myself at this point.
He lets me touch him without admonishing me or trying to take control of me. In fact, he stares at me with something in his eyes that I can’t place.
Ayres moves the towel along my chest, rubbing the grime away. He’s watching me watching him, and he smiles.
“Keep touching me, Kitten. I like the feeling of your hands on me.”
I beam a smile at him. There’s something wrong with me. I shouldn’t want to touch him. Or call him Daddy. There’s no reason for me to feel safe in his arms. But I do.
I want this gentleness to continue.
