by Becca Little
“So why do you need to see her parents?” I tossed out the only piece of conversation I knew about him.
“They made her lie about me. I just need to talk to them. It has been ten years, and I think I’ve been punished enough. She came to see me a couple of times, and said they wouldn’t let her tell the truth. Honestly, I’m beyond being over her, but I can’t spend another ten years in prison for a crime they made up. If I would have gotten convicted of statutory rape, I would have been out by now.” He lit another cigarette and sat down across from me.
“I don’t think they could have made her lie if she loved you.” I probably shouldn’t have said that. His face instantly went dark.
“Oh I know that. I was just a bad boy she fell in love with. She couldn’t be bothered to risk her fancy life to keep me out of prison. She was weak, and she’s still weak, but they need to see what they’ve done to me. I’m not a bad person, and I did love their daughter with all of my heart when we were together. Yeah, it was foolish, but I was young too. I don’t deserve what they did to me; I’m being punished for falling in love.” His eyes reflected anguish.
“I’m sorry…” Hearing him tell his side of things made me see how tortured he was. I couldn’t believe a jury convicted him when it was so obvious that he did love her. Her testimony must have been on the level of a crucifixion.
“It’s fine. It isn’t your problem or your life. He goes to work at six, and I’ll be there to confront him. I just need two minutes to talk to him. He never once listened to my side of the story, and he walked out during my testimony. He has to be a reasonable man. I know he was just protecting his daughter. I’ll be the first to admit, I was a complete fuck up then with no job and no future.” John stood up and looked out the window again.
I glanced at the clock and saw it was nearly 4:30. I cursed myself for staying up so late. If I would have been asleep the way I should have been at that hour, I could have slept right through this ordeal. He finished the bottle of wine and went back into the kitchen. I heard the sound of food being cooked. I had to laugh to myself at the thought of him standing in my kitchen cooking himself—what smelled like breakfast. I sighed and tried to control the panic inside me. I wasn’t sure if I could actually trust him, but he wasn’t a violent criminal, and I hoped what he said was true. A few seconds later, I heard the sound of my coffee pot starting. He was definitely defeating the purpose of the wine if he was going to drink a pot of coffee after finishing it, but I assumed he hadn’t had either in a long time, so I couldn’t really question his strange behavior. He ate in the kitchen with the only sound I heard being a fork scraping on a plate followed by his mouth slurping coffee. He finally walked back in with a cigarette and a fresh steaming cup. He peeked out the window again and then sat down.
“It’s almost time... I will have to take your car. I’m sorry, but it won’t be hard to find. After I talk with him, the police will take me into custody again, and I’m sure you can pick it up from impound.” It was quite considerate I suppose, but it didn’t make me feel any better.
“Are you just going to leave me tied up here?” I tugged at my binding.
“When they figure out who owns the car, the police will show up here. It shouldn’t take long. I honestly can’t risk you calling them before I get a chance to talk to her father, or this whole endeavor will be a waste. I waited ten years for this chance, and I doubt I’ll have another chance.” He stared down at the floor for a moment. “Okay, time to go.”
He stood up and grabbed my car keys, taking only the one from the car off of the ring. He finished his cup of coffee and then knelt down behind me, making sure that everything was tight. It figured that I would end up tied up by a man, and it wouldn’t even be for fun. I could already imagine Monday when I got back to the office. Everyone would be fascinated that I spent a few hours with Johnnie Hottie, and they would want every single detail. I would definitely have to come up with a better story than the truth—I couldn’t exactly tell them I was upstairs in my secret room, masturbating in a diaper, when he opened my unlocked door. Technically, I guess I was finished when he showed up, but that part definitely would have to be left out regardless. He started towards the door and then he ran back and ducked down beside me. A second later, I felt his hand clamp over my mouth.
“Mother fucker… God damn it!” He sounded furious. I looked over and saw my elderly neighbor talking with a police officer. The officer looked around, putting his hand on his hips as my neighbor waved his arms around saying something.
“Mmm Mmm” I made noise against his hand, trying to talk.
“Are you going to scream? If you scream, I’ll gag you.” He said as he moved his hand.
“That’s just Mr. Phillips. He calls the cops a few times a month. I’m sure he’s complaining about kids running through his garden or something. It’s a coincidence.” The cops always humored the old man because he did donate a lot of money to the local charities.
John watched the old man and the police officer through the curtains. Mr. Phillips motioned for the police officer to follow him and they disappeared around the back of the house. John followed them with his eyes, but I couldn’t see what was going on. I stared straight ahead and considered if I should actually yell. Sure, John hadn’t done a thing to hurt me, but he was still a criminal and he had escaped from prison. His crazy plan could end up going wrong, and there was no guarantee his ex-girlfriend’s father would even speak with him. Screaming might even do him a favor… No. I couldn’t do that. I would just have to let it play out. John watched the clock as Mr. Phillips and the police officer spoke. After nearly an hour, the police officer came around to the front of the house, got in his squad car, and drove away. John kicked the edge of my chair lightly and muttered under his breath.
“Damn it! I missed him… There is no way I can get into his office building without being recognized and there would be too many people around.” He sat down and put his head in his hands.
“Are you sure? It’s Saturday. There might not be too many people in the office…” My office was certainly deserted that day.
“There is still security…” John tapped his head with the palm of his hand. He seemed extremely frustrated.
“How do you know he still works there? It has been ten years…” I thought that a lot could have changed in that time, and really I just wanted him out of my house so I could lock the door.
“I saw this online…” He pulled out a piece of paper that had been printed on a computer. “They let the prisoners who are fifty percent of the way through our sentence use the computers so we can prepare for reentry into society.” He unrolled the paper and it was an announcement dated less than a week prior about her father, naming him the board of directors, and citing his incredible work ethic—always in the office on the weekend.
“I see… Well then, just wait. He gets off work tonight. You can go see him then.” I didn’t have any other options to present at that point.
“I don’t want to leave you tied up all day. If I untie you, can I trust you?” His eyes looked like the ice blue ones from the television, and they seemed concerned, but I nodded.
“Yeah, I won’t do anything.” I felt his hands move over behind mine.
He was a lot gentler when he untied me than when he first wrapped the fabric around my wrists. As soon as he removed the bindings, I could feel the blood circulating back in my hands. I did not want to make any sudden movements because I knew it could startle him. I did everything I could to remain perfectly still, despite the desire to rub my wrists, especially when they started stinging. After he got done with my wrists, the moved down to my ankles and started to remove the fabric on them. They really didn’t hurt or burn at all. When he got to the one around my waist, my robe began to open and I panicked. He stopped for a second and pushed it open to see what was underneath—the obvious glaring plastic diaper. He took a step back and looked at it, then looked at me.
“Um, do you have a bladder
problem or something?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, something like that.” Once I was completely free, I pulled my robe closed.
“You seem a little young for that.” He stood up and stared at me with a confused look.
“It’s private. Would you mind if I changed?” I hoped he would let me put some real clothes on, and at least remove the diaper.
“That’s fine, but I’m going to have to come with you. I won’t look, but I can’t risk you trying to call the cops.” He looked around the room. “Where is your phone?”
“I just have a cell phone.” I motioned to it and he picked it up, shoving it in his pocket.
He followed me upstairs and I opened my bedroom door. True to his word, he looked the other way while I changed. The room was really nothing more than a masquerade for a real room since I used my secret room or the couch for sleeping mostly. I dropped the diaper on the floor and put on regular panties, a bra, and a dress. It wasn’t the kind of dress I wore when I was being a little girl, but it was better than the bathrobe I had been wearing. I would have preferred jeans at that point, but my only pair that didn’t cut into my midsection was downstairs in the laundry room. I turned around and I didn’t see him. I walked to the door confused and then saw his hand on the doorknob of my secret room. I started towards him, but he twisted it and pushed the door open. His eyebrows raised and he looked around it for a second before turning back to me.
“You have a kid?” He asked.
“What? Me? No!” In retrospect, I probably should have said I did have a kid, but in that moment I could only think of getting the door closed.
Instead of just closing the door, he walked into the room and started looking at things. I knew what he was seeing and it made me stand in place, trembling with fear. My ex-boyfriend used to take pictures of me, and they were all over the room. There were pictures of me dressed up like little Disney princesses, and pictures of me in diapers, but they were taken in an artsy way so that it didn’t reveal anything. After standing shock for a minute or two, I walked to the door and saw him with one of them in his hands. His face seemed to be etched into a permanent confused stare. After looking at it and shaking his head, he put it down and turned back to me. I wanted to explain, but my words just came out in a jumbled mess.
“This is. Well, it is… I mean…” I really didn’t know what in the hell to say.
“I get it. You have a strange fetish. I mean, you have a very strange fetish.” He picked up my pack of cigarettes that had been casually discarded on the table in a panic.
“I didn’t know you smoked. I would have offered you one…” He tossed them back down.
“I’m not allowed to smoke. My Daddy would—” I clamped my hand over my mouth; that certainly wasn’t supposed to come out.
“Your parents know you do this?” He blinked a couple of times in confusion.
“No, I don’t mean my real Daddy…” I was talking myself in a complete circle.
“Oh, I see. So you have a boyfriend then? He isn’t going to be stopping by is he?” John walked to the window and pushed the blinds open.
“No, I don’t have one. Not anymore…” I really wanted to get him out of the room—fast.
He turned away from the window and then he noticed the diapers in a bag against the wall. I think the pieces clicked together for him when he saw that and he remembered what he had seen downstairs. “So the diaper was part of this whole thing.”
“Yeah…” I admitted. What else could I say at that point?
“Tell me about all of this.” He walked to the bed and sat down. “We have all day right?”
“This is something very private. I don’t exactly share it with other people.” I shook my head and wrinkled my brow.
“Who am I going to tell, huh? I’ve never seen anything like this and I’m genuinely interested.” He lit up a cigarette and offered me one, but I declined. I pulled my pink princess chair over and sat down.
“I didn’t have a normal childhood…” I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to share my life story with him, but he was right—we did have all day. I was pretty certain he wasn’t going to let go of the questions unless I explained something. Considering what he had already seen, the rest of the story was pretty tame.
“Most people don’t.” He shrugged and smiled as he pulled his cigarette away and exhaled.
I told him things I had never told anyone other than my boyfriend. I guess I was lonely for some form of companionship, or just felt like I didn’t have anything to lose with him. He listened to everything I said and nodded along with it. I became aware of how crazy it probably seemed to him, but he didn’t judge me at all. He certainly wasn’t someone I would have told a single thing about my life to normally, but he was such a good listener that I found myself opening up to him. By the time he was done listening to my tale, he just shook his head shrugged.
He stood up and took my hand, lifting me to my feet. I followed him back downstairs and he sat on the sofa while I cooked some lunch. I settled on grilled cheese and baked fries—I didn’t think he would care much, and I was pretty hungry. I refreshed the pot of coffee and brought two cups out. We ate in relative silence, which I didn’t mind since I had effectively spilled my entire life story to him. Once the coffee was gone, he sat back and stared at me for a minute. I tilted my head, wondering what he was staring at.
“You are very beautiful.” He said finally.
“I’m also the first woman you’ve been near in ten years.” I blushed, but I also felt like he was probably wearing some rose-colored goggles because of his time away from the real world.
“I mean it, you are. I bet you don’t let anyone get close because you don’t want them to find out what is upstairs.” He nailed that one right on the head.
“Yeah…” I admitted.
“The funny thing is, I’ve spent my last ten years in a federal prison locked behind bars and I couldn’t walk out without an elaborate plan. You’re a prisoner in your own life. We aren’t that different after all.” He smiled and put his hand on my knee. I looked down in confusion and then looked up at him.
“What are you doing?” I couldn’t deny he was right, but I wasn’t sure why he was touching me.
“I’m not going to lie to you and say that I’m into all this stuff, but I have a pretty clear understanding of what you need. Why don’t you let me be your new Daddy for a few hours.” His hand moved further up my leg.
“Are you serious?” I was caught in an emotional landslide. It had been so long since I had felt a man’s touch, and he was one of the most attractive men to ever put their hand on my knee.
“I am.” His hand paused around the middle of my thigh. “I think you and I both know you’ve been a very naughty girl and need a trip over Daddy’s knee.”
Before I could really react, his hand clamped around my wrist and pulled me towards him. I closed my eyes and tried to rationalize what was happening and what was going on in my head. I had never been the kind of woman to pick up strangers, or sleep with people I just met. I looked into his eyes as I went across his knee and I could see a hunger in them. As he stretched me out, pulled my dress up, and pushed my panties down to my knees, I realized just how long it had been since I was in that position. My body was tingling and I didn’t want to fight it. I pushed the thoughts of out my head and allowed it to happen. I knew that a rational person would say no, but I was long past rational. When his hand came down hard on the right side of my bottom, and then moved to the left side, I was lost in the moment with him. My body had craved punishment for so long that I didn’t care who was holding me across their knee. I let my eyes slowly open and I accepted it—for a few hours, John was going to be my Daddy.
“You’ve been such a naughty girl, hiding in your room and smoking cigarettes. You know Daddy doesn’t allow that.” His hand started to fall faster on my bare bottom.
I was surprised by how fast he picked up on his new role. It was exactly what I imagined
so many times when I was in my secret room, smoking and doing naughty things I knew I deserved to be punished for. Of course, I couldn’t help but nearly laugh for a moment when I processed the fact I had found a man who was willing to do the things I needed, and I found it in a convict who would be locked away for the rest of his life—or at least ten more years plus whatever the escape added. Once his hand really started to spank me, I had no room for laughing. He was a little harder than my last boyfriend, but sometimes I did think he went too easy on me. It was the frequency of the punishment I didn’t like, and the inattention to my own needs. I wouldn’t have to worry about that with John. His hand moved back and forth across my bare bottom like a surgeon, placing hard smacks in multiple locations. His hand was so fast that sometimes it felt like my bottom didn’t even recover from the last smack before another one landed. I could feel myself getting wet, so I pulled my legs together. If the spanking continued at the pace it seemed to be headed, I would move past the initial turn-on and get lost in the agony of what I did wrong—I loved those moments. His hand came down nearly fifty times before he paused and adjusted me on his knee.
“Oww! Ouch!” I squirmed against him; he was making my bottom really sting.
“Don’t close your legs.” He pushed my panties down to my ankles and freed one leg from them before pushing my legs apart. “Daddy wants to see just how naughty you are.” He rubbed his finger across my wet pussy and I immediately felt flashes of pleasure mixing with the pain.
With my legs spread apart, the spanking continued. He started to pay attention to the thighs directly below my bottom, sometimes smacking me only centimeters from my pussy. That part really hurt, and it wasn’t long until I felt tears in my eyes from the punishment. I hadn’t cried in so long that when they finally streamed down my face, I felt almost liberated. He delivered another fifty to my bare, unprotected bottom before his finger drifted across my pussy again. I was moving beyond the physical thrill of the spanking and sinking into the emotional release I needed, but his finger made those two collide in a way they never had before. He set up a routine where he gave me four smacks on my bottom, two on my thighs, four more directly in the center of my bottom, and then a stroke of his finger across my pussy. The tears started to flow after several rounds of it, and the sweet emotional release started to to take hold. I was eternally a naughty girl who had to go over Daddy’s knee for the spanking I deserved. My new Daddy understood that and he kept me there for one of the longest spankings of my life.
