by Allison West
“I will see you tonight, at dinner,” Charles said, kissing her one last time before she slipped from the room to check on the children.
* * * * *
The day with the children had not been nearly as tiring or troublesome as the previous day, with the nanny stealing them off and having to go look for them. Emma spent her morning and much of the afternoon with her nose in a book or practicing her penmanship. Alice colored and Delia spent a few hours teaching her the alphabet, trying to get on track with a proper education. Besides, without a nanny, Alice had no choice but to sit in the classroom with Delia. She might as well try and learn a little in the meantime.
“I have some news for you,” Charles said, coming into the dining room.
The girls were fast asleep and Delia took the opportunity to breathe a sigh of relief and sit down at the table for dinner. “Yes?” Curious what type of news he could have that would involve her.
“I ran into an old friend this afternoon, seems he knows who you are, a Claude Moore.”
Delia’s face paled and her stomach tensed, losing all interest in food as Margaret carried out two plates of appetizers with fresh salad and fruit. Reaching for her fork, she picked at her food, praying his stare would disappear from her and he would momentarily forget that he had run into her ex-lover. It was not as though she still had a relationship with Claude. What they shared had been in secret and held in the strictest of confidences. Charles could not know what transpired between them. Claude was off-limits in many ways, to be married off to a wealthy young noble girl with a bountiful dowry. Delia had recognized that fact and refrained from pursuing a man who was not eligible for marriage.
“Oh,” Delia said, careful not to give too much away. “Yes, we grew up together. He lived not far from my childhood home.”
“Yes, he said as much,” Charles said. “Would you like to invite him to the wedding?”
Delia’s eyes felt as though they would pop out from her head. Sweat beaded at her brow. “I do not believe that is necessary. We have not kept acquainted with one another in years.”
“Very well,” Charles said. He sat down across from Delia at the dining table and lifted his fork, taking a bite of his first course. “Notice anything missing?” A smile grazed his face.
Bite after bite, Delia hungrily enjoyed her meal. “What do you mean?” Her plate had nearly been cleaned off and Margaret returned to remove the dirty plates and bring the next course to the table.
Charles stood and Delia glanced up at him. “Do you have somewhere more important to be?” She had thought they were enjoying a nice meal together, before the intimate time between them would be shared.
“No. Only one of us has a knife, Delia.” He waited until Margaret placed the plate down on the table before he cut up her food into bite-sized pieces.
“What are you doing?” Delia frowned, confused as to why he would find it necessary to cut up her food. Had the kitchen run out of utensils and had only one spare knife that had been clean?
“I am taking care of you. As my little one, knives are prohibited. You will eat what I cut up for you.”
She mumbled her annoyance under her breath. “I am not one of your children.”
“Excuse me?” he asked, staring down at her, seeming displeased by her demeanor. Had he caught what she said?
She glanced up at him, offering the best phony smile she could muster, pretending she had said something else entirely. “Thank you.”
“Yes, that is what I thought you meant.” After he finished slicing up her meat and vegetables, he sat back down in his chair across from Delia.
“You are not going to feed me?” she asked. Delia knew she was crossing a potential line, instigating an argument for no real reason than her pride, which was a good enough excuse for her. “I mean if I am your little one, shouldn’t you be feeding me so that I do not make a mess all over my beautiful gown?” She lifted the fork, speaking with the food attached though not for long, as a strawberry tumbled onto her dress. A small bit of dressing flicked across the table in her movements, hitting his cheek.
He reached for the napkin, wiping the offending drop from his skin. “Young lady.” Charles’s voice rose louder. “You will behave like a proper girl or I will be forced to take you over my knee.” His cheeks burned red and it seemed he was trying to keep his temper in check.
“You would not dare in front of the housemaids and kitchen staff.” Delia understood that if he wanted to keep his desires a secret than he would be smart enough to keep the discipline from their watchful eyes.
“I most certainly would,” Charles said, standing up.
Delia’s eyes widened and her heart sped up with anxiety. Oh no. Had she really set him off? She had only intended to tease him and though she craved to feel his hand slap her bottom, she had desired it in the privacy of the bedroom, not for all to witness!
“Up!” Charles commanded but Delia refused to budge. Her hands gripped the edge of her seat.
With one swift movement, he grabbed Delia by the arm and lifted her from the position on the chair, forcing her to stand. Her legs wobbled with fear, afraid of the humiliation that would follow. Did all the staff know about his desire to make her little and spank her for her insubordination? What would they say to her in passing the next time they laid eyes on one another? Would there be callous remarks and smirks of amusement on their faces?
Charles sat in the wooden chair that had moments ago grazed her bottom. “You will lay across my lap. Pull your skirt up and drawers down.”
Delia did not budge from her position as she stood on the floor, unwilling to do as told.
“Do you choose to disobey your Poppa?” Charles asked.
“No,” Delia said, her voice timid and filled with trepidation. “Perhaps we could take this upstairs?” Did he want to embarrass her in front of the staff?
“You do not get a choice in where you will be spanked.” Charles reached for Delia and hoisted her up and over his lap, bringing the skirt and layers up over her head as he pulled at her drawers to reveal her bottom.
Seeing nothing but the materials of cloth over her head, she squirmed and fought him, trying to break free. His hand came down hard without warning, forcing her hips to buck and momentarily freeze. This time her attempts to move away were to avoid a second swat. It did little good as his hand landed on her pale bottom, certain to leave a mark on her porcelain skin.
“Oww!” Delia cried out, protesting her punishment. What had she done to deserve such a harsh treatment? Could he not have just corrected her with a proper tongue-lashing? She had been scolded countless times by her father in her younger years.
His hand smacked her bottom repeatedly, forcing her to yelp with each swat as he took charge, teaching her a lesson. She squirmed to escape his torment, only to feel his grip stronger and his insistent spankings harder and on the same raw flesh that he had already swatted. The pain burned like fire on her bottom, making her wonder how she would sit again for a week. His swats moved from her plush round curves to the top of her thighs, where she sat, the area sensitive and painful.
“Stop! Delia begged, her voice trembling for him to be done disciplining her.
With her screams and cries, Delia sniffled, the sound of heels clicked against the floor. The redness of her bottom must have matched her face. Who saw the humiliating spankings that she endured? She could not see their shoes. let alone the maids’ faces.
“Will you listen from now on, little Lia?” Charles asked. His voice remained strong and steady as he swatted her bottom awaiting her response.
“Yes, Poppa.” Delia’s voice hitched as her eyes glistened with tears, afraid he would swat her raw bottom yet again. She wanted to smile at his new nickname for her, but the pain made it too difficult to feel happy.
Instead, his warm palm smoothed over the delicate skin. Did he see the pink swollen petal that poked out to reveal her arousal? She hadn’t even time to consider when he had turned her on, but wi
thout a doubt she recognized the wetness and warmth that seeped between her folds, beginning to throb like a rhythmic heartbeat. Embarrassed by the desire flooding her quim, she buried her face further in her Poppa’s lap. His soft soothing circles that he ran over her sore bottom helped calm her palpitating heart.
“Play time is after dinner, little Lia.”
He helped her stand and held the gown up around her waist. “Lift your drawers and sit down at the table.” Charles stood, allowing Delia to have her seat.
With eyes cast down on the floor, she lifted the linen bloomers up and secured them properly before allowing the material from the dress to fall down to her feet. The layers were not thick enough to sit upon, as her bottom grazed the wooden chair she winced in pain.
“Is there a problem, little Lia?” Charles asked. He watched her intently as she lifted the fork from the table and stabbed a small piece of meat, bringing it to her lips. Wordlessly she ate. Knowing better than to say anything that would see to her receiving a second punishment for the day. She needed to break the habit of being disciplined by her Poppa. Yes, she liked Charles very much, but she did not wish to feel his hand peppering her backside every time she did something wrong. She was bound to make a mistake, as she had never been married before and did not know much about being little let alone being a governess or nanny. It was all still so new to her. Didn’t Charles realize that as well?
“No, Poppa.” She quietly ate, doing her best to keep from feeling his firm hand again tonight.
Silence enveloped the room as they ate their second course. “You are awfully quiet,” Charles said, watching Delia.
What was he thinking? She did not dare disappoint him twice in one day. Besides, they would be married soon. Once the vows were exchanged, even if she did screw up, he would not send her out or ask her to leave the premises. They would be married forever.
“I have a question,” Delia said, finishing the last of her plate, her eyes trained down on the table.
“Yes, little Lia?”
“The other governesses that left, did you ever ask them to be little?” She had grown quite fond of the nickname he had given to her.
Charles sighed. “That is a complicated question that I must decline from answering. In the same way the maids will afford you a certain level of privacy and discretion, what did or did not happen with the previous governesses is not open for discussion.”
“What about Nanny Ida?” Delia asked. Did he have any reason to keep her secrets in confidence after what she had done to him and his girls?
“She was never a partaker as a little, but she did tend as a nanny to not only my children.”
“Oh,” Delia said, her lips poised together in surprise. “You mean she was a nanny to your governesses as well?”
“Yes,” Charles said with a nod. “She might have been yours had she not made a mockery of this household.”
Delia breathed a quick sigh of relief, grateful Ida had left in such haste. It was clear the two women had not gotten along and the mere thought of Ida being her nanny, she found unsettling. There were many experiences Delia had been willing to try for Charles but that was one line she was grateful not to find herself forced to cross.
“Then I shall confess I am relieved she is gone.” Delia made it known that she wanted Charles all to herself. Certainly she had to share him with his job and his children during the day, but at night she wanted him and no one else. She never was very good with sharing.
“As am I,” Charles said, a smile on his face. “Are you finished eating?” He gestured toward the empty plate. “Would you like anything else tonight?”
“Just you, Poppa,” Delia said.
“Come child. Let’s get you upstairs and changed for bed.” The smile grew on his face as they both stood and he took her hand, guiding her out of the room and up the staircase for bed.
She had to secretly admit that she did not miss the lonely room that had been made up for the governess. Delia much preferred sharing his quarters with him.
Following Charles into his bedroom, she waited for him to close the door before speaking. “Do you want me to undress, Poppa?”
“No.” Charles said and shook his head. “Not yet. I hate to admit but I like the emerald gown you are wearing. It may not be appropriate for my little one, but it is quite beautiful on you.”
Delia spun around with a laugh, letting the gown twirl at her feet. The moment, brief and fleeting but it made her feel young and carefree as if there were no doubts or concerns to trouble herself with.
Charles reached for her hand, stopping Delia from making herself dizzy. He pulled her closer, his breath teasing hers, but he did not so much as kiss her. “Do you want to be my little one, Delia?”
His question caught her by surprise. “I want to please you, Poppa.”
“Yes, but I want your full submission. I want you to desire this as much as I desire you, my love. We will marry, if you love me.”
Delia hadn’t time to feel the tips of wings of love graze her cheek. She cared for Charles and wanted to protect him, same as he was trying to look out for her.
“You need not worry.” Wasn’t what she doing a matter of love? She had bared herself to him completely, not just intimately but also allowed him to choose his ultimate fantasy lifestyle with her. At least that was how Delia saw it. She found the words difficult to say on a whim. They had barely known one another, certainly not long enough to say something so bonding that stuck forever. Wasn’t that what they would be doing by marrying one another?
Charles reached out, cupping her cheek, his eyes staring deep into hers. “Tell me, Delia. Tell me you want this.”
“I want you,” she whispered. She had not lied to him and never would. There was no reason to hide herself from him. He had seen her scars, the thievery, and that her virtue had not been intact. None of it had mattered to him, which made her love him even more.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, his fingers untying the ribbons on the gown as he helped her disrobe.
“Yes, Charles.”
“Good. I want to do something to make you one hundred percent little.”
Delia raised an eyebrow but did not complain. She had no clue what he had in mind. Would he force her to take a bottle or wear a diaper? Those thoughts made her cringe. No. He had not said anything to indicate he wanted her to be that young. It seemed he liked to dote on and cuddle her, Delia liked those moments they shared, uninterrupted. “I will do whatever you want, Poppa.”
He helped her from the gown, staring at her beautiful naked body in front of him. His fingers danced again over her scar, staring curiously but not asking any questions. She was grateful for the privacy, as much as one could have standing naked in front of the man she was to wed.
“Come with me,” he said, taking her hand as he led her toward the porcelain claw bathtub. “I want you to put one leg up on the edge of the tub, while I shave you.”
Delia swallowed nervously. “You intend to shave my legs?” She had never had anyone pay that close attention to her body or skin. A slight tinge of fear crept up on her, afraid he would knick her skin.
“No, little Lia. I plan on shaving your quim.”
Delia laughed, giggling uncontrollably and her eyes watered as she wiped the droplets away. She waited for him to smile, laugh, or show any sign to her that he was joking. It did not come. Her cheeks flamed and she fanned her face when he still gave no hint of a reaction. “You are serious?”
“Very. Stay right here,” he said, dropping a kiss to her cheek.
Within minutes he had returned, having procured a bowl of heated water and shaving soap, wetting the razor and dousing her thick curls with soap to ensure no discomfort.
Delia did not object. In fact, she did not say a word, afraid the slightest movement might hurt her.
The attention to detail that Charles paid made her heart swell and a faint smile found its way to her lips. She tried not to shake, her nerves exciting and frightening
her to do something so new, foreign, and naughty.
“Try and relax, but do not move,” Charles said.
“Easier said than done,” she muttered under her breath. Not only was the position completely indecent and humiliating, what he was doing was scandalous! Should anyone find out, oh her reputation would be destroyed. She had to marry him, there was no other choice. At least then the blame would be shouldered on the fact they were wed. It offered her a modest level of protection.
He glided the straight razor along the edges of her folds near the juncture of her thigh, going slow and with long strokes. After each stroke from front to back, he doused the razor and wiped it clean before continuing his ministrations.
Delia held her breath, momentarily afraid that if she so much as breathed wrong, it might result in a cut or knick to her most intimate area.
“You can breathe, little Lia,” Charles said as he dipped the razor in the bowl of warm water. “It will keep you from passing out.”
“Right,” she said and stilled again as he brushed his finger against her clit while separating her folds. Biting down on her bottom lip, she tugged at the soft flesh between her teeth. Her cheeks burned and she shut her eyes, exhaling a heavy breath. Delia’s heart raced, thumping like the hooves of horses racing along the track. She still could not believe the attention he gave to her cunny, shaving the hair away, his gentle touch as he stared intently down at her most intimate area.
Careful to keep her cunny lips separated, he cautiously shaved along the inside lips of her quim, down toward her bottom. With the last few strokes, she breathed a sigh of relief. He wiped the remnants of shaving soap and hair away with a linen cloth before helping her down from her position on the tub. “Come with me, little Lia. It is time to get you ready for bed.” He took her hand and guided her into the bedroom.
Delia stood there awkwardly, naked in front of her poppa. She tried not to hide her bare quim or her breasts from him, so she stood with her hands to her sides.
Charles seemed pleased with the arrangement and fingered through the nightgowns in the armoire before retrieving a sky blue chemise with lace at the hem. It did not look overly child-like and Delia was relieved that he had picked it out especially for her.
