Daddy's Here(71)

“You are a whining snivelling brat who will soon learn the dangers of speaking out of turn. You will sit there in silence whilst I read and if there is so much of a peep out of you, another smacked bottom will be the result. Do it twice and you will spend the rest of the journey with no dress at all. Am I understood?”

She scowled at him but did not reply.

He leaned close to her face, saying each word slowly. “When I ask a question, you reply with ‘yes sir. Am I understood?”

“You are insane sir.”

“By God you will pay for that disobedience.” He grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, lifting her dress as she shrieked for help. Ignoring her cries, he pulled her nappy down far enough to expose her bottom. She squirmed to get away but was unable to escape his grip as he rained blows down on her buttocks. “Please,” she begged. “Please stop. I beg you.”

“Will you answer me? Am I understood?”

She glared up at him as he raised his hand once more. “Yes, sir,” she screamed. “Yes, sir. Now please let me go.”

He finally loosened his grip, and she had to fight to avoid crying as she sat back on her seat, her bottom as sore as she ever thought it could be.

“That’s better,” he said. “Now I am going to read. You are to be silent.”

She watched him pull out a book and begin to read. His face was as stern and cold as a statue. As time passed, she became increasingly restless but whenever she shifted in her seat, his eyes flashed a silent warning towards her.

The only way she had to keep track of the hours passing was by the light changing outside the carriage. By the time the sun began to set she found herself desperate for the toilet, the sensation of need growing over the preceding hours. She shuffled in her seat, sitting on her hands and squeezing her bare toes into fists.

“Sit still,” he growled without looking up.

“I need to stop for a moment.”

“Whatever for?”

“I need the toilet.”

“There is no toilet out here.”

“But I need to go.”

“That is what the nappy is for. Let it serve its purpose until you can learn to control your bladder better. Your skills in such matters match those of your temperament.”

“I must protest.”

“You can protest all you like. It will make no difference to what happens next. Now, silence.”

He returned to his book as the sun dipped below the horizon. Her desire to urinate grew ever stronger over the next hour and she winced every time they bounced through a pothole.

Moving her thighs together, she squeeze the muscles in her legs, her desperation becoming overpowering. As they jolted over yet another rut in the road, she let out a gasp, a few drops of urine leaking out of her and soaking into the nappy. She fought with herself to prevent any more from escaping and managed a few more minutes by biting her lip so hard blood trickled onto her tongue.

Another jolt and another leak, this one more worrying as she was barely able to make it stop. She could feel the wet warmth in the towelling cloth, the nerve endings in the skin around her core seemed more sensitive to the change than she expected was possible. She shuffled her legs ever faster until Edward finally set down his book.

“You are moving again,” he said.

“I must get to a toilet.”

“Have you not gone yet? Get it over with and then stop that incessant wriggling around. It is most distracting.”

“I cannot go in public like this.”

“Then it shall be an interesting night’s journey for you.”

He turned away from her and lit a candle inside the lantern that swung from the ceiling. The light it cast moved with the motion of the carriage, alternating plunging Laura into darkness and then light. As she looked across at Edward his eyes closed and by the time the light was on him again he was asleep.

She was relieved to find him asleep as it meant she could wriggle on her seat as much as she desired. She gave a moment’s thought to slipping out of the carriage but in the darkness she knew she would soon be lost. Better to wait until morning and hopefully if he was still asleep, she could slip out and find her way home.

Cramming her hands between her legs gave her some sense of relief. The nappy felt so bulky compared to her usual underwear, it was hard to feel herself through it and she had to continually grind her hand in place to gain the relief she needed.

The coach rolled ever onwards and she plumbed new depths of agony of need. “I cannot last,” she said out loud but he did not stir.

Perhaps if I sleep, she thought, it may help. She twisted her head until she could lean on the wall of the carriage. Closing her eyes, she did her best to distract herself from the pain in her bladder, thinking of home and the things she would demand from her father to make up for the treatment he had signed her up for.