Liz’s stilettos stomped away and walked down the hall toward Charlie’s bedroom. “What are you two talking about in here?” she demanded after swinging the door open. She walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.
Sophie leaned into the corner, braving to move her hands to her backside, where her skin crawled and throbbed. She was just beginning to feel really, truly sorry for herself when she was distracted.
Liz’s voice had cried, “You did what?”
Sophie spun and scampered out of the corner to look down the hall toward Charlie’s bedroom.
“Josh! Jesus Christ! She was just in a car accident! This was not the time, you think?”
She blushed, fathoming that the secret of her loss of virginity was now out of the bag. She continued to stare at the door, craning her head to hear the conversation.
“I know, I know. It just seemed right. I was just so riled up by nobody telling me where she was, and then I was so relieved when she was okay… I just wanted to be close to her. I needed her…” Josh was saying.
“You’re eleven years older than she is! You know better than that!”
“Yeah, I’m older, but I’m not a robot!”
The door of the bedroom opened suddenly and Sophie, startled, hopped back to her place in the corner. She turned slowly to see Daddy standing there, staring at her with a frown, and she quickly faced the blank, boring meeting of walls.
“All right, baby doll, c’mere,” he finally invited.
She rubbed her eyes on her dress sleeve and turned again. She was surprised to see him opening his arms to her to embrace her, and she was more than happy to fill the gap between them just to let him hold her.
He wrapped his arms around her warmly and kissed her neck. “I missed you,” he told her.
She found herself grinning slightly. It was such an easy thing to say—that one missed another, even if it was just for a day. But she was happy to hear it all the same. “I missed you too, Daddy.”
He pressed his cheek up against hers and then sighed as he parted from her and turned her slightly to the side. “Let me see this bottom of yours.” She felt him put his huge hand across the span of her bottom, and then his finger trace along some of the spots that were the most tender.
She winced and twitched from his hand, and he began to rub her soothingly. “All right, let’s get some lotion on this, baby girl.” He pulled her panties slowly up her waist, glancing up to catch her grimace. He took her hand to guide her toward the foyer and up the stairs, but she slowed.
He turned to her, his brow wrinkled with confusion. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
He normally carried her up to her room in these situations. He was always looking for an excuse to hold her, to keep close to her. This morning she felt she needed closeness as much as ever.
Biting her bottom lip, she raised an awkward hand up to his chest.
He got it; he even gave a slight chuckle as he bent down, let her sling her arm over his shoulder, and heaved her up until her legs could wrap around his waist. He kissed her cheek and continued to trek toward the stairs. “My baby girl,” he said, rubbing her back soothingly as she leaned her whole front up against his chest.
“I’m really sorry,” she told him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “About everything. I was horrible. Did you and Mommy have fun at the thing? I didn’t ruin it, did I?”
“Nah,” he replied. “We were back at the hotel before Josh called. I think you scared the meatball out of him last night, though. We had a good time at the gala.” He didn’t go into specifics at all, as if he was being blasé and nondescript on purpose.
He stopped in front of Lacey’s door, not hers, and reached into his pocket.
It was the first time she’d noticed that they’d taken off Lacey’s name plate. Now it was just a bare door. “We’re going in Lacey’s room?” she asked with interest as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. The smallest key on the chain, looking more like a mailbox key than anything else, was the one he put into the little keyhole on the golden doorknob.
“It’s not Lacey’s room anymore,” he replied simply, then pushed the door open.
It smelled like paint, but it was a bright girl’s room filled with purples and greens and browns… her favorite colors. Her heart leapt for joy at the room’s beauty, the soft feeling of it, the character of everything from the cottonball-esque ceiling light to the white, elaborate picture rail. Stuffed animals of various sizes were everywhere. “Sophie” was written in huge, fabric hangings on one side of the room.
“When did you do all this?”
“It’s not like you don’t leave us for several hours every day,” he replied modestly, putting her on her feet. “Josh and I figured that our princess needed a little castle of her own, and so we went to work on it.”
She couldn’t help walking around and investigating it. “It’s beautiful,” she said, in awe.
“It’s all for you.”
She sniffled. She didn’t deserve a new room with tons of stuff in it; not after the car, especially.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked, standing behind her and petting the back of her neck.
She shook her head. “I don’t deserve it,” she admitted.
“Of course you do,” he argued softly. “You’re our baby girl, it’s our privilege to do things like this for you. We kept waiting for a special time to show it to you, when you were more comfortable being our baby girl. But, sweetheart, you’re signed up for a pretty tough bad-baby weekend, so I figured there was no time like the present.”
Butterflies began to flap around in her stomach. She suddenly looked around and saw that there was something amuck with this room. It was huge, and overwhelming, and she didn’t notice at first, but the furniture was odd.
It was about three times larger than the room next door that she’d been calling her own, but it was nearly designed like a studio apartment. It had a small kitchenette area, it had two desks—one with a chair far smaller and more feminine than the other—and two beds. Again, one was obviously larger and more grown-up. The second bed was just a simple twin and positioned nearly on the floor… but it had rails. Rails that she could tell would pull up and reveal that it was a large crib.
It wasn’t just a bedroom, she realized. It was a nursery.
For her.
She spun around and caught sight of what she thought was a dresser but was really an oversized changing table. For diapers.
For her.
What she thought was a room divider of sorts up in the corner was really a section fenced off from the rest of the room because it was surely a playpen.
For her.
In the corner there was a little white chair—facing in, not out.
For her.
A thrill of fear, dismay, and excitement shot through her. The excitement made her stomach flutter, and the dismay made her blush and feel weak in the knees. “Please, please not a bad-baby weekend. It’s not like I’d steal Josh’s car a second time, Daddy!” she whined, walking into the bathroom where he’d disappeared.
He was filling up what looked like a rubber hot pack. “You weren’t supposed to steal it the first time, baby,” he reminded her sternly, looking over his shoulder at her. “You couldn’t have possibly thought your actions were going to be accepted well.”
She frowned and ran her fingers up and down the doorframe. “Well, I didn’t think it would go that unwell.” She got on her tiptoes to see what he was doing in the sink. “What’s the old-fashioned water heater thing for?” she asked him.
“That’s not what this is,” he informed her dryly, putting the stopper in.
“What is it?” she asked, then ran her sleeve over her face again.
“This is an enema bag, sweetheart.” He folded a towel until it resembled a fluffy pillow and hung it over the edge of the bathtub.
Enema.
Gosh, that word sounded familiar. She had a feeling it was something she’d heard in a medica
l setting, but her brain wouldn’t settle on what it was. It wasn’t like the word was in common usage.
She stared at the bag. “It looks like a water heater,” she said doubtfully. “You know, like one of those old-fashioned ones? Like something Bugs Bunny would put on his head when he was sick or something?”
He didn’t crack a smile at the imagery. Instead, he closed the bathroom door, shutting them in there together, and then he turned her gently around and started to undo the buttons on the back of her dress.
The undressing was making her nervous. She didn’t want to ask, and she’d hoped that he was just going to rub some lotion on her bottom and then redress her, so she let him without a fuss. Her dress fell down around her.
“Do you know what an enema is?” he asked, sounding suddenly very suspicious.
“Kinda,” she said in lieu of saying flat out “no,” especially since it seemed like something she should know.
“Describe it.”
Damn. She narrowed her eyes to give herself a good think, then said, “Well, probably… something to do with…” She looked around and saw a nondescript bottle of what seemed like lotion, and felt confident enough to say, “lotion?”
“No,” he replied seriously, kneeling in front of the door and then hooking his thumbs into her panties and pulling them down. “Baby, I’m going to clean out that bottom of yours by filling it full of soap and water and flushing it out. Then I will put in a bottom plug and put you in diapers.” As her brain was busy exploding behind her eyeballs, he added, “Welcome to your first bad-baby weekend.” He looked at the panties now pooled around her ankles. “Step out.”
Her mind was still exploding, hearing was going in and out, and she actually felt a little faint. All the while, she let Charlie help her out of the panties with a vacant expression on her face.
“Bend over the tub—ow!” he winced as she made a sudden leap for the door, flung it open and hit his bad shoulder with the doorknob. Unfortunately, he was quite in the way, and the door opened the wrong way to create an efficient escape route.
“Sophie! Sophie? Look at me.” Daddy was suddenly holding her shoulders with both hands, keeping her still.
She struggled against him only for a second, when she realized that even if she were two feet taller and a hundred pounds heavier, she still couldn’t beat him in a wrestling match. She couldn’t believe that he’d want her to do this, though! That he would… cleanse her? That was crossing the line. Actually, it was annihilating the line with a bulldozer.
“Sophia Lynn.” He was putting on his warning voice now. “Look me in the eye right now.”
It was difficult, but she did it.
And then she started sobbing again, because there was no hesitancy in his expression at all. He was prepared to go to battle with her over it, and Daddy always won his battles.
She whimpered, “Don’t, Daddy. Please? Please, no.” He was going to think she was gross for the rest of her life!
“Sweetheart, this is not the first time I’ve given a bad girl an enema, and even though I want you until the end of time, I’m sure this won’t be your last cleansing. You have to trust that Daddy loves you, he’s not going to break your spirit, and he’s not going to hurt you. He’s just going to punish you so that he can trust you won’t do something like this ever again.”
She knew that this was her cue to feel like she had completely trampled on the trust of all her partners and for her to just throw herself over the side of the tub with her ass in the air so that he could trust her again.
Instead, she tried to make another break for it, hitting him with the doorknob again.
Ten minutes later, the enema had gotten cold, so Charlie remade it while Sophie, who now had cuffs on her hands and feet, hung over the side of the bathtub, whimpering and begging for Charlie to change his mind about all this, and asking if it was truly necessary.
“Can’t you assign me more chores? I can wash your car! I can scrub floors with a toothbrush or something,” she suggested.
“Military-esque punishments don’t really work for us,” he replied, then hung something up on a hook in the wall. “If it makes you feel any better, I also won’t be beating you up with a soap-filled sock later.”
“What’s that hook for?” she demanded, rolling to her side to look up at him.
“Exactly this purpose,” he replied, grabbing the nondescript lotion bottle and squeezing some onto his fingers.
“You mean you put a permanent fixture in here for this? What’s wrong with you people?” she groused sharply. “Nobody in the world does this! This is beyond sadistic! This is—” Charlie came up behind her, parted her bare bottom’s cheeks, and found her bottom hole with his greased finger. That “lotion” had apparently been lube.
“Daddy, donnnn’t!” He pressed his finger, without welcome, into her bottom. “No! Nooo! Stop it!” Her complaints got shriller. She felt so violated; this was certainly very different than what was done when they just fooled around, or when Josh was having sex with her that morning.
“Stop it!” she squeaked just before he dipped his finger into her all the way up to his knuckle. Her toes were curling upon the chocolate-colored bath mat. It burned, stretched places that had no business being stretched.
“You’re going to get more spanking as it is, so don’t add to it. Stop whining,” he demanded firmly. He pulled his finger out, and then dipped it back in. “This is one tight little bottom, baby girl. You might like this sort of attention, you know, if you ever learn to relax this bottom of yours.”
“I would relax it just fine if your finger wasn’t in it!” she gritted.
“Don’t worry, it won’t be for long,” he replied. With that bit of mysteriousness spoken, he slid his finger out and replaced it with something cold and hard before she could even sigh with relief.
It was smaller than his finger, but not at all comfortable. Especially not when it started to pour warm, soapy, burning liquid into her bowels. “Eeeep!” she squeaked. “Eeeeek! I hate you forever!” She squinted. “It burns!”
“Because it has a soap solution in it. Some people give themselves these every day, Sophie. You’re going to live through it,” he told her as if she was making mountains out of molehills.
“What? Nobody does these every day! Nobody!” she snapped, trying to get up.
He grabbed her ponytail and brought her to heel like a puppy on a short leash. “You’re making me lose my patience with you,” he said with a tiny, yet very domineering yank. “Is that what you want?”
Nope. He was scary when he lost his patience. She’d seen it before: it normally ended up with her getting a wood paddle out of the closet for him to turn her bottom practically purple before sending her to bed absurdly early.
Well, God only knew what his anger meant today. He seemed to be opening up a whole new arsenal of punishments. “No,” she pouted.
“No, Daddy, I want to be a good girl and take my punishments without throwing one tantrum after another?” he prompted, as if he was so sure that’s what she really wanted to say to him.
Her lip trembled, but she repeated him.
The hot water continued to flow up into her, making her feel full, and not at all in a sexy way. More like in a soapy-water-balloon sort of way. This feeling was new.
And then her stomach began to feel weird. Just weird at first, not painful, but then it quickly escalated into painful… in the ‘I have to go right now!’ sense. “Daddy…” she began, trying to think of the right words that would get him to let her alone post-haste. “Daddy… I… I need to go to the bathroom.”
“You are in the bathroom,” he reminded unsympathetically, although she had a horrible notion that he understood what she meant and was just being difficult.
“I need to go potty,” she told him in a childish whine, using childish words, and actually it was the best way she knew how to phrase it.
He reached up over her and jiggled the red bag. Apparently not all the torturo
us fluid had yet made the mad rush into her bowels just yet. “Not yet. You’re not done.”
“No, right now!”
“Sophie.” This was a good, solid warning, and one that made her quiet down and think of anything else than reality.
Oh, thank sweet baby Jesus. He finally pulled the tip out of her. “Okay. Okay,” she panted. “Can I use the potty, Daddy, please?”
“Not for another three minutes. Keep it in.”
Despair. She was in complete and utter despair! Why did she steal Josh’s car? She could have gotten a taxi, probably. If she’d called Josh and asked him to hire a taxi with his credit card, she was sure she could have treated all her friends to a ride to the mall if they were unable to find a car.
She also promised herself she’d never drive ever again. Even when it was legal. Even if Daddy or Liz begged her to. Why didn’t she just break her arm or something? Because there was no way if she’d gotten just a little hurt, but not really, really hurt, from the car accident, she’d be trying not to go to the bathroom all over the floor right now. Knowing her “family,” she would probably be in bed getting pampered right about now instead.
“All right,” he finally said, glancing at his watch, then helping her up with a strong arm. And then he did something she would never forget—that much she was positive of—until she died of incredibly old age.
He picked her up and sat her down on the toilet like she was a two-year-old needing potty training. “You can go potty.”
She looked at him in horror. “Can you… go?”
He crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall as if preparing to get comfortable. “No, baby girl. Babies get full-time supervision.”
Fuck! It was official: she was living out her worst nightmare. Actually, no—she wasn’t so sick as to actually dream of something like this. She’d take Jason chasing her around a lake any day!
“Go on,” he urged, sounding nearly impatient.
“I’m not going,” she gritted. “I’ll hold it in until you go away.” She hoped that would happen in the next thirty seconds.
Being Their Baby Page 24