"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.
"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.
When he stopped, she didn't know what was happening at first. Having left her body some time ago, she was barely aware that he was stroking her behind, softly brushing his fingers over where he had so recently been so damaging. His fingers moved lower, gliding between her legs as he leant over and whispered in her ear, "Don't move."