* * *
Chris stopped his exploration but continued to gently stroke her tightly puckered ass as he drank in the sight of her heart-shaped bottom on display for him. Her fair skin was flawless, begging for a gentle smack or two, but today was not about discipline. Today he intended to simply take care of her and show her that she could trust him. He only wished he’d had time to do it before she decided to start breaking the rules.
“I need you to relax, Abby. This won’t hurt a bit, but it might be a little uncomfortable if you don’t relax.”
She took a deep breath, her bottom hole gave slightly, and almost immediately his finger slipped lightly in, massaging around her hole.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmured gently, and then his fingers slipped down between her legs to stroke her smooth folds. His goal was that the sensations would be every bit as exquisite as the circumstances were humiliating.
“That’s it,” he whispered, “just relax.” With his thumb firmly planted in her bottom hole, the rest of his fingers began a lazy exploration of her delicate flesh, already wet with hungry anticipation. Abby’s breath hitched as he found her special button and began teasing it between two fingers.
* * *
Without thinking she arched her bottom higher, and from beneath the pillow, she heard him chuckle.
“Good girl. Now you’re ready to have your temperature taken.”
His thumb slipped out and was replaced by the slightly larger candy thermometer. Abby moaned and buried her face deeper into the cushion as it slipped in, wondering if her blush extended all the way to her normally pale bottom. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears as the cool air of her apartment sent a rash of gooseflesh across her bare thighs. She felt Chris’ hand begin to slowly stroke her hair and heard him gently remind her to relax as he moved to stand beside her.
“Now, hold very still so it can get an accurate reading. I’m going to go chop up everything for your soup while it gets a reading, and I don’t want you to move a muscle.”
To her dismay, he walked away and left her there, bare bottom in the air with a candy thermometer sticking out of it. Somehow having him beside her lessened the embarrassment of the situation. Now that he was gone, she felt as if she were drowning in indignities. First spanked over a nasty public toilet, and now this. Without thinking she started to squirm, but froze as she felt the thermometer threaten to slip out.
After what seemed like an eternity, he returned. Placing a hand against the small of her back, he slowly removed the thermometer. “No fever,” he announced. “Does your tummy hurt?”
“Yes,” she lied, figuring it was easier to pretend to be sick than admit she was ditching work because she was still mad about the night before. Without her morning coffee she couldn’t be sure, but she thought no lying was rule three. She wasn’t sure if lying to her boss counted as breaking the rules, but she wasn’t about to find out.
“Ahh,” he nodded. “In that case, Daddy has something to fix you right up. Stay put.”
She craned her neck around to watch as he retrieved a strange looking bag with a hose attached from one of the grocery sacks and proceeded to fill the bag with water from the sink. As he carefully applied a clear jelly to the end of a familiar nozzle, Abby’s stomach flipped as she realized how he intended to fix her imaginary tummy ache.
Chris was going to give her an enema.
“Um, Daddy,” she said nervously, “my tummy is a lot better now. Really. I could probably even go on in to work now.”
A smile played at his lips as he brought the bag over. “It’s okay, honey. I promise you’ll feel so much better after this. You don’t need to be afraid.”
Afraid, hell. The thought of him giving her an enema trumped the humiliation of the gas station bathroom and the candy thermometer temperature reading put together. Her muscles clenched tightly as she felt the silky tip of the nozzle gently probe her bottom hole.
“Please don’t, Daddy,” she whined, hating how she sounded in that moment almost as much as she hated the swelling ache of anticipation that was starting up between her legs. While her mind was reeling in shame at the idea of what he was about to do to her, her body was practically dancing in its eagerness for the game to begin.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmured softly as his fingers gently pried her cheeks open and the well-lubed nozzle slipped into her insanely tight bottom hole. “Just relax. This is going to feel so good, I promise.”
Almost immediately, a warmth began to spread inside her, and she felt her tummy begin to swell as Chris expertly administered her enema. A warmth began to spread in her face as well, causing her cheeks to blush furiously. The urge to go to the bathroom was almost unbearable, and she felt a strange sense of déjà vu as she struggled to hold herself together.
“Daddy, I gotta go potty,” she whimpered, shamefaced.
“Just a little longer, baby.”
Seconds stretched into eternity as the warmth and swelling continued, and Abby covered her face with her hands as she tried to pretend she wasn’t really bent over a couch, getting an enema from her boyfriend.
Just when she thought she couldn’t hold back any longer, he patted her shoulder and held the bag out to her. “Here you go, Abby,” he smiled. “All done.”
She grabbed the bag and scooted awkwardly down the hall, desperately trying not to think of how she must look to him. Even after she’d locked herself in the bathroom and tossed the enema kit in the trash can, her cheeks continued to burn at the thought of what had just happened. The most embarrassing moment of her entire childhood couldn’t come close to the humiliation of Chris’ well-intentioned enema. “I’m never lying about being sick again,” she muttered as she rested her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands.
As she sat there, an old forgotten memory resurfaced. She was six years old, and she was shopping with her mother. Or rather, her mother was shopping while she frantically tugged on her sleeve and begged her to take her to the restroom. With her eyes closed, she could see herself as a child, crossing her legs and pleading to no avail, until at last her bladder couldn’t resist any longer and she wet herself in the middle of Macy’s department store. Her mother had been furious, and Abby had been deeply humiliated. Somehow the memory of it eased the embarrassment she felt now. Something told her that if she’d been unable to hold herself together until she reached the potty with Chris, at least he wouldn’t yell or be angry with her about it.
When she’d finally recovered her composure enough to come out of the bathroom, she found him standing outside the door waiting for her. Her cheeks blushed anew as she realized he’d probably heard the aftermath of his tummy ache cure, but he didn’t seem the least bit put off.
“I’m betting a little rest and some chicken soup will fix you right up,” he announced as he turned her around and guided her back into the bathroom. “First, let’s get a hot bath drawn for you, and then you can soak while I get the soup going.”
He drew a hot bath for her, adding bubble bath until the frothy bubbles were spilling over the top edge and onto the tile floor. Abby stood quietly as he undressed her, holding her arms up to allow him to pull her top over her head, then let him gently guide her into the tub. She sank into the hot water and watched as her body disappeared beneath the thick bubbles. Almost immediately the tension and humiliation floated away and her body went limp in the enveloping warmth. Chris set something on the edge of the tub, patted her head, and then left her to her bath.
To her surprise, he’d left her a box of children’s bathtub crayons. She didn’t think they’d been around when she was a child, and her eyes lit up as she eagerly ripped the package open. There were nine total and she quickly fished the purple one out and began doodling on the tile wall. The crayons took her back to school, to time wasted doodling endlessly on notebooks and book covers while waiting for the bell to ring. Tentatively, she drew a flower, then a bee next to it, and then her confidence took hold and she colored a city
skyline along the tile wall. She drew a big red heart, then wrote Abby + Chris inside. As an afterthought, she added a black arrow to it. By the time he returned, she’d decorated almost the entire wall with doodles and sketches and schoolgirl crush signs.
“My little artist,” he grinned, surveying her scribbles with a warm smile. “Something tells me you’ve been too busy coloring to get clean though.” Taking the soap from the shelf beside the tub, he lathered up a washcloth and proceeded to gently but thoroughly scrub her from behind her ears clear down to her individual toes, lifting each leg out one at a time and making sure every inch was well washed. “This little piggy,” he said with a grin as he wiggled her little toe, and Abby burst into helpless giggles. The humiliation of the previous evening seemed like a faded memory of something that happened to someone else, and as he gently soaped and scrubbed her fingers and bellybutton and the cleft between her bottom cheeks, her heart felt like it would burst.
She couldn’t imagine falling for anyone in just a few days, but there was no denying it. Abby was head over heels in love. The feelings were overwhelming and frightening. She knew from past experience it was dangerous to let things get this far this fast, but it was too late. His gentle, caring touch and the twinkle in his blue-green eyes had her hopelessly snared. When he wasn’t around, her emotions went to war, but in his presence she could think of nothing more than pleasing him. The adoration in his eyes whenever he looked her way melted her heart, even as her mind argued that normal couples did not behave the way they did. A grown man doesn’t want a woman who acts like a little girl unless he’s a sick pervert, a voice that sounded exactly like her mother insisted in the back of her head, but she was determined to ignore it. They were both adults. If it made them happy, how could it be wrong?
She certainly couldn’t find anything wrong with the way his fingers had teasingly lathered up her taut nipples, or how they’d slipped lightly between her legs and polished her needy button with soap slickened fingertips. Her body begged to arch into his hand, pleaded for her to pull him down into the bubbles with her, but the unwelcome voice in her head would not shut up. It refused to let her reconcile the idea of acting on her lust when she was also acting like a child. Sick, her mother’s voice kept insisting. This is sick!
Reluctantly, she eased herself away from his fingers and tried to focus on the crayon doodles on the tile wall instead of the burning ache welling up between her legs. From the corner of her eye, she caught him staring curiously at her, gauging her mood. Apparently understanding she wasn’t ready, his hand slipped quietly away from her fevered flesh and reached for her hand instead.
Helping her from the tub, he bundled her up in a towel and then led her to the bedroom. Laid out across her bed was a new pair of light purple pajamas with sock monkeys cavorting across them. The corner of the bed was turned down, and Mr. Jingles was propped up against her pillow. A purple ribbon had been tied loosely around one paw, and on the other end of the ribbon dangled a pacifier. She didn’t know what to make of the pacifier but kept silent. Her body was still protesting the abrupt end of her bath, and she didn’t trust her voice to be steady if she spoke.
After thoroughly drying her off, he dressed her in the new pajamas, first pulling the black tank top over her head, then sitting her on the edge of the bed and slipping one leg at a time into the bottoms. They fit perfectly and she grinned as she ran her hand along the soft fleece of the pants.
“Sock monkeys!” she giggled, tracing her finger along a tail. Abby couldn’t imagine where he’d managed to find them on such short notice. They were adorable and made her laugh just to look at them.
“I thought you might like them,” he said as he helped her get situated against the pillows. Once she was comfortable, he tugged the sheet and comforter over her legs and set Mr. Jingles next to her.
“I know you miss having that nasty smoke in your mouth,” he said kindly, “so I got you something to help when the stress starts to get to you.” He took the pacifier and gently but firmly popped it into her mouth, then handed her the remote control. “Now, you stay here with Mr. Jingles and your binky and watch TV, and I’ll go get you a bowl of soup.” Chris kissed her lightly on the forehead, then tucked the blanket up against her and went back out to the kitchen.
Tentatively, Abby let her tongue run along the pacifier nipple and was immediately filled with a strange, but not entirely unpleasant, sense of déjà vu. For a moment she took it out of her mouth and studied it. She’d assumed it was a child’s pacifier at first glance but on closer inspection, she realized it was adult sized. Where on earth did he find this? Once more, the urge to condemn the stranger aspects of their relationship arose, but she shoved it aside and embraced the sensation of being cared for and being free from responsibility. Whether it was normal or not, Abby felt safe and loved, snuggled in her new pajamas with a binky in her mouth and Chris in the kitchen preparing her soup. For the time being she wanted to simply enjoy being cared for.
Wrapping an arm around Mr. Jingles, she pulled him close and settled into the pillows, then clicked the TV on and hunted down Animal Planet. When Chris returned with two bowls of steaming, homemade soup, along with crackers and slices of cheese perched atop TV trays, she was snuggled into her blankets and absently sucking on the pacifier while an assortment of meerkats cavorted across the TV screen.
Chris set one tray across her lap and the other on the opposite side of the bed, then pulled an oversized bib from his back pocket and buttoned it around her neck.
“Don’t want any soup spilling on your new jammies,” he said when she raised an eyebrow at him. Looking down, she saw it also had sock monkeys on it, though on a white background instead of purple. Like the pajamas and pacifier, it was also adult sized. Abby started to ask where on earth he found little kid stuff in adult sizes when the soup’s aroma reached her nose and her stomach growled to remind her she’d not eaten anything all morning.
Gingerly, she sipped the steaming soup, careful not to burn her tongue as she tasted it. The rich, velvety broth was loaded with thick noodles, celery and carrot slices, and chunks of roasted chicken, a far cry from the watered down canned soup she normally ate. It was delicious and her empty belly demanded more. Abby eagerly slurped down spoonful after spoonful while Chris made himself comfortable on the bed beside her.
“Good?”
She nodded happily. “It’s the best.”
After they’d finished their soup, Abby snuggled up against Chris with her head on his chest and the pacifier in her mouth, while he gently stroked her hair and let her pick the channels. They spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon in bed watching TV. She didn’t remember when she finally dozed off, but it was nearly seven in the evening when she woke up alone. On the bed beside her was a note from Chris letting her know he’d had to go take care of some business but would call later that evening to check on her.
She found leftover soup in the fridge and heated another bowl for dinner. Watching it slowly turn inside the microwave, Abby’s thoughts kept returning to the events of the morning. The memories of having her temperature taken and then of her enema made her cringe with embarrassment. The fact that she’d been more than a little turned on by both only added to the sense of shame and bewilderment.
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked the empty room.
For once the nagging voice in her head had nothing to say.
Chapter Nine
The next two months Abby skipped her family’s monthly get-together. Julia had left a few emails letting her know she’d been missed, but when she missed the second dinner, her little sister resorted to voicemail.
“Hey, Abby, it’s Jules. I haven’t heard from you since the disaster dinner. Miss you bunches. Call me, okay?”
When that one went unanswered, she left three more. Each one made Abby feel worse, but she had no intention of attending another lunch, or any event that involved being around her mother and older sister. The last few months she�
�d spent with Chris, and the friendship she’d developed with Amanda had convinced her she was better off steering clear of toxic family members and nightmarish dinners. With Chris she could explore the childhood she never had, and somehow it had given her the strength to look at adulthood with new eyes as well. And Amanda was like the best friend she should have had growing up, always eager to talk on the phone or gossip about music and the cute guy working the counter at their favorite coffee shop.
It wasn’t until she listened to the fourth message that her resolve began to crumble.
“Okay, Abby, I know you’re hearing these. Please call me. Don’t be like this. You know Daddy and I love you, but he still has to live with her, and I’m just a big coward. Please forgive us. You always have our support, even if we’re afraid to show it around her. Just call me, okay? I hate it when you’re angry with me. If you don’t want to come to dinner, that’s okay, but please don’t shut me and Daddy out. We love you bunches.”
Sighing, she leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. The next family dinner was scheduled for that Saturday, and as usual she’d received a formal invitation in the mail. A simple phone call or a text wasn’t how her mother did things. No, it had to be a printed invitation. It had to be proper. She knew that despite the hell that always broke loose, Julia and her father desperately wanted her to come.
Picking up the phone she started to dial, then stopped. She wasn’t ready to talk just yet. For now, an email would be best. With email she could control the conversation, avoid any unwanted questions.
Disciplining Little Abby Page 9
