by Lucy Wild
He was mad. It was the only explanation. She had been handed over to a madman and there was nothing she could do to escape until he let go of her. Having had control of her own life since her mother died, Abbey was not used to someone else making the decisions, deciding what would happen to her. She felt scared and tired and in pain and ashamed all at once and underlying it all was the sense of injustice. She did not deserve this.
“There,” he said at last, his hand sliding over her rear, the tortured nerve endings so sensitive she could feel every ridge of his skin and her own. “That’s better. You look good with a little red to your cheeks.”
“You brute,” she said when he lifted her to her feet. She yanked up her shorts, wrapping the gown around her as her legs gave way and she fell to the floor.
“You might be a bit wobbly,” he said. “Always happens the first time. I’m guessing you’ve not been spanked before.”
Abbey’s face flickered just long enough for him to frown and look at her closely. “Oh, you have? I’m surprised. Who was it? Your father?”
“My mother,” Abbey whispered, not even sure why he deserved an answer.
“When you were very small, I presume?”
Abbey nodded.
“Well, what happens here will be quite different to the spankings of a babe in arms. Trust me on that one.”
“What…what does happen here?”
“I look after little girls like you.”
Chapter Six
When Papa told Abbey to lay on her back, she did as he asked. She didn’t think she had much choice. He was towering over her on the nursery floor and he looked so large, she felt he could probably squash her flat if he chose to put those boots of his on her. But he didn’t crush her. Instead his smile filled with warmth as she rolled onto her back and looked up at him, fear filling her at the sight of his joy. “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, her hands automatically folding across her chest.
“I’ve already told you, your Papa isn’t going to do anything like that. I’m here to teach you how to be a grown up.”
“By spanking me?”
“Not just that. First, I make you little, then I mould you into the right sort of big.”
“You make me little?”
“Exactly?”
“What does that mean?”
“Well first of all, I’m going to take your clothes off you.” He ignored her sharp intake of breath. “Then I’m going to shave you, powder you, put a nappy on you, give you a dummy and then put you to bed.”
Abbey reeled as his words sank in. “You’re what?”
“You heard me. Now let’s begin, shall we?”
“No, please,” she muttered as he reached for her dressing gown cord. She tried to push his hands away but he ignored her, taking the cord and untying it, pulling the two halves apart to reveal her night attire. “Looks expensive,” he said, her hands still fighting his. “It would be a shame to have to rip it off you but if you don’t stop fighting me, I will.”
Abbey’s hands fell slowly away from his. “Please,” she muttered again. “Don’t do this.”
“You do not make the decisions anymore,” he said, pulling her arms so she was forced into a sitting position. He slid the gown from her shoulders as she looked up at him, willing him to stop. He might have said he wasn’t going to fuck her, but what was he going to do? As he took hold of her vest and slid it up over her chest, she tried to stop him, hearing the ripping sound of it being torn in half a second later. “That was your own fault,” he said, tossing the vest aside and shoving her in the chest, pushing her back down to the ground.
The touch of his fingers near her left breast as he pushed her made Abbey quake with fear. That was nothing compared to the turmoil of emotions that ran through her as he took hold of her shorts and slid them slowly down her legs, putting them aside with her dressing gown before glancing down at her body. “Keep still,” he said as her hands went to cover herself. “Arms by your side and keep them there.”
“Please, let me go.”
“You can go when you’ve learned your lesson. Now legs apart for me, bend your knees a little, that’s it.”
Abbey felt like she was stuck in the middle of the world’s most obscene medical examination. He was staring between her legs. “Looks like I don’t need to shave you,” he said. “That’s good, little Abbey. It’ll make this part quicker.”
Abbey glanced down at him. “What’s that?” she asked, staring at the tub in his hand.
“Just some powder to stop you getting a rash.”
“Powder? What kind of powder?” She didn’t even care. It was as if asking questions was her only way of maintaining any semblance of control, stopping her mind from breaking in two completely.
“Baby powder,” he said, unscrewing the lid.
“But I’m not a baby.”
“Ever used baby oil?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Not everything made for babies has to be used just for them. You’re my little while you’re here and littles have powder put on them before they wear nappies.”
“You’re not serious about the nappy?”
“No more questions. You’re starting to annoy me. Now keep still and this’ll soon be over.”
He shook the tub over her hips and white powder floated down through the air, landing on her skin in a soft blanket. Setting the tub down beside him, he began rubbing the powder into her, starting at her hips and moving slowly down towards the tops of her legs.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, shuffling on the spot as his hands moved towards the top of her thighs.
“Because you’ve been naughty,” he replied, pushing her legs apart as she tried to press her thighs together. His fingers slid along the creases at the very tops of her thighs, moving down and around to the arc of her buttocks, pressing powder into the valley of her bottom, sliding back up and then around either side of her pussy.
Abbey froze when he touched the soft folds of her pussy, the feel of his fingers sliding over her making her body tense up and her mind go into overdrive. She wanted to scream, she wanted to run, she wanted to punch him and call the police and do anything to stop this. But she didn’t do any of that. Instead she lay perfectly still and tried to control her breathing as his fingers moved together and began rubbing the last of the powder over the top of her pussy, pressing a little harder when he was near her clit, as if aware that doing so was taking all the control away from her, showing her just how much power her had over her in that moment.
“Now the cream,” he said, reaching for another tub. “Nearly done.”
His hands travelled in the same path, sliding cooling lotion into her skin. By the time he reached her pussy again, she felt as if she were floating above herself, looking down on what was happening. But then he brushed over her clit with the cream and his touch was so tender and soft that despite her fear, she sank back into her body. He touched her there again and then his finger slid down towards her entrance and as it did so two feelings hit her at once. One was arousal and the other was guilt. She didn’t move, she didn’t react, she didn’t say anything but the touch of his finger sliding back up to her clit turned her on more than she would have ever thought possible. At the same time a tidal wave of shame washed over her. She couldn’t get turned on by such a touch. She shouldn’t get turned on by it. It was wrong. It was all wrong.
She was still getting over the shock of her reaction when he brandished the nappy before her. It was adult sized though covered in images of dolls and it crinkled as he pulled it open, lifting her legs with one hand to push it under her behind.
“You’re not serious about this?” she asked as he pulled the bottom of the nappy up between her legs, pressing the sides in place before sitting back and smiling.
“There,” he said. “Does that answer your question?”
He held out a hand and she put hers in his, watching it swallow her fingers as he lifted her to her
feet. She stood in only the nappy and felt utterly ashamed as he pushed a dummy into her mouth in a motion that was almost tender in its gentleness. “Now into bed,” he said, lifting her up and placing her down inside the cot. He lowered the side enough to place a blanket over her, stroking her forehead as she blinked up at him, feeling her eyes closing, a gentle lullaby playing from hidden speakers. “You don’t need to worry about anything anymore, little Abbey,” he whispered, still stroking her forehead. “Your Papa will look after you from now on. You just rest a little. You must be very tired.”
Abbey wanted to spit out the dummy and run but even as the thought of escape flashed through her mind, her eyes began to close. It might have been the overbearing heat of the room or the soft tinkle of the lullaby but whatever it was, it had the desired effect and in under a minute she was fast asleep, her last thought coming in the shape of a question, a question that came from nowhere. She wondered what it would feel like if her new Papa were to kiss her.
Chapter Seven
Abbey woke up in desperate need of the toilet. She had no idea how long she had slept for, only that her bladder was in absolute agony. She sat up, confused for a moment as she tried to work out where on earth she was. The dummy had fallen from her mouth and the sight of it on the blanket brought everything flooding back to her.
The nappy rustled and rubbed against her skin as she stood up and tried to climb out of the cot. The sides were just too high. “Hey,” she called out. “You out there. I need the bathroom!” There was no response. “Papa!” she shouted. “Papa, please let me out.”
The door to the nursery opened and there he was, smiling in at her. “I’m glad you called me Papa,” he said, taking slow steps towards her. “It takes some of my littles a long time to learn the right name for me. Did you sleep well?”
“Please let me out,” Abbey said, squirming on the spot. “I really need the bathroom.”
“Is that all?”
“What do you mean, is that all? Let me out of here.”
“Little Abbey, you really aren’t all that bright, are you?”
“I’m going to wet myself if you don’t let me out.”
He shrugged. “You’re in a nappy.”
“You don’t expect me to go in this?”
“Where else?”
“The bathroom like a normal human being.”
“But you’re not a normal human being. Not while you’re in this house. You’re my little and littles go in nappies.”
Abbey almost screamed as a twinge of pain flashed through her. She needed to go, right now. “Please don’t make me go in the nappy.”
He sighed. “I suppose you could use the potty but why should I let you?”
“Because I want to.”
“You little brat. That’s not an answer. Why should I let you use the potty?”
“Because…because I want to be a grown up.”
“Well, I suppose just this once.” He unhooked the side of cot and lowered the bars, watching as she jumped down.
“Thank you, thank you,” she said, running over to the porcelain potty which sat beside the changing mat. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you to finish,” he replied, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall behind him.
“You don’t mean to watch me?”
“I am in charge of your life now, little Abbey. It is a Papa’s job to keep an eye on his littles. Get used to it.”
“You can’t watch me.”
“I can and I will. Now you have to make an important decision. Either remain little and use the nappy or start to grow and use the potty. You are nowhere near grown up enough to be trusted in the bathroom yet.”
“Oh, God,” Abbey said, squirming on the spot as the pressure inside her continued to grow.
“Your choice,” Papa said, looking as smug as ever. He didn’t feel the pain she did, he didn’t care about how ashamed she was, how awful it was to be watched whilst she almost lost control of her body.
“Please.”
“You don’t leave this room until I say so. The sooner you make a choice, the sooner it’ll be over.”
“Oh no,” Abbey muttered as she felt an unstoppable pain starting to spread through her. A warmth simultaneously leaked out onto her pussy and at the first sensation of it, she squeezed every muscle inside her, tearing off the nappy and squatting down on the potty.
Almost at once she began to relieve herself, the hissing sound filling the air as she looked pointedly at the floor, refusing to move her eyes towards him, knowing he was staring at her. It was just so humiliating.
“Good little girl,” he said, walking across to pat the top of her head.
“I’m not a dog,” she snapped, the ache in her body slowly subsiding.
“You are vicious though,” he replied with a chuckle. “It’s a wonder you haven’t bitten me yet. Now hurry up, I’ve got something to show you.”
She barely had time to finish before he told her to lie down on the changing mat. She did as he asked, only too aware of her nakedness as he applied another dose of powder between her legs. As his hands rubbed it in, the familiar self loathing grew, a hatred for him that somehow she was able to separate from the physical sensation between her legs. The touch of his fingers on her pussy when he applied the cream made her shudder, something she told herself was just the cold air in the nursery.
He lingered on her pussy this time, his left hand parting her lips and his right stroking down towards her entrance. She froze as she realised what he might see. He might see that she was wet. Would he notice the flush of arousal down there? She could only hope he wouldn’t but as his fingers moved up to her clit, exposing it from under its hood, she began to wonder.
She tried her best to control her breathing as he rubbed the cream gently around her clit. Then in a movement so swift, she wasn’t sure it happened, his finger slid down and then dipped just inside her. It was for the briefest of seconds but it was enough to make her gasp as he stood up and grabbed a nappy, placing it between her legs and attaching the sides, lifting her to her feet as her heart continued to pound. Had he done that? Had his finger slid into her? If it had, it must have been an accident, a slip through the cream, that was all. He had that smile on his face as he looked her up and down. “Perfect,” he said, slipping a dummy into her mouth. “This way.”
He took her hand and led her out of the nursery and through the opposite door. Abbey stared in disbelief at the space she found herself in. It was filled with dolls, teddy bears, colouring books, building blocks, all the apparatus for a functioning play room.
“Choose a stuffy,” Papa said, motioning her forwards. “Whichever one you choose is yours forever, your special toy.”
“But why?” Abbey asked through her dummy.
“Because you were good and you deserve a reward.”
Chapter Eight
He left her alone for the briefest of time but it was long enough. Abbey was running her eyes over the enormous pile of stuffed toys, surprised to find the choice a difficult one. It was ridiculous. She’d been in his house for less than a day but already she felt as if this were a choice she had to get right, as if she didn’t want to let him down. Where had that thought process come from? It didn’t make any sense.
“I’ll go and get your milk,” he said, walking away from her. “I left it in the kitchen.”
She heard him heading downstairs and as he went, she turned back to the toys and dolls. Had that one been there before? A pink stuffed pony was poking up from the middle of the pile and something about its slightly wonky ears plucked at her heartstrings. She grabbed it, hugging it tightly to her chest. “Come on, pony,” she said, spitting out the dummy. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
She tiptoed to the stairs, listening hard. There was no sound so she dashed down, running for the front door. She was halfway there when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Going somewhere?” Papa asked, spinning her round to face him.<
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“I’m going home.”
“This is your home, you bad little girl,” he snapped, dragging her into the nearest room. Inside was a large dining table and he pushed her over it, yanking her nappy down to her ankles. “Don’t move,” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom as she went to stand up. Something in that voice spoke of raw power, enough to frighten her into keeping still as he stood behind her.
“I welcome you in, give you a stuffy, tend to you, care for you, and how do you repay me? You try to run as soon as my back is turned. It won’t do, do you know that? It’s dangerous out there for a little girl on her own. You need to stay here where I can protect you and look after you.”
His hand suddenly slapped down on her buttocks and she let out a yelp of pain. “It hurts,” she said. “Please don’t.”
“It hurts me far more,” he replied, pacing up and down behind her. “You don’t understand what it’s like for me. I don’t want to do this to you. I tried to be nice to you, I really did.”
He stopped moving and she winced, knowing what was coming. His hand slapped onto her right buttock a second later, a stinging blow that jolted the table and her. He spanked her again, this time to the left, alternating sides as she began to gasp, heat spreading through her. She told herself it was just pain but she knew that wasn’t true, not anymore. Since the brushing motion of his fingers between her legs, a thought had sparked deep inside her and it continued to grow as he spanked her rhythmically. It was the thought that this time, she wanted to be spanked.
She found her hips moving back towards him, her legs shuffling apart as his hand moved lower, landing blows on the tops of her thighs before returning to her rear. The heat and sting rushed through her, making the gap between each blow more painful than the spank itself, the anticipation of what was coming, not knowing when it would end, it was too much for her to bear. She forced herself to only think of the pain, not difficult as his blows grew in strength, raining down on her with such force that tears unconsciously began to fall. She felt sure she would bruise from such treatment, yet still he didn’t stop. He kept going, lecturing her about the perils of disobeying him as he did so, the words lost on her. She could think of nothing but the burning heat and then the pause, the smack, then the pause, again and again. The stuffy sat on the table, watching in silence. She yearned to hug it tight to her but dared not move, not after his command.