Cheri's New Rules

by Markie Morelli

  “What kind of things would you want to buy?” she asked.

  Michael laughed.

  “Too many things for you to worry your pretty little head about,” he informed her. “Suffice it to say I would have everything I need to take care of you in every possible way.”

  “Would you be stricter with me?”

  “I wouldn’t consider it stricter, but you would have far less say than you do now. You would be put to bed when I determined you were tired and it would be a good idea to take a nap when I think you need one. There would be no more wine or coffee, and if you were especially cranky, I have a number of methods to deal with that as well.

  “You would eat what Daddy prepares for you and if I can find one, it might be from a highchair. This isn’t a game, Chéri. You call it playing, but I’m talking about a lifestyle that will change everything.”

  “Will we still make love?” she asked with a worried frown.

  “I will never stop making love to you, nor will I stop giving you amazing orgasms. I couldn’t even if I wanted to because having you, loving you, is like breathing to me. I need you that much. However, if you’re a naughty baby, you might have to wait for your release until you’re better behaved. I, on the other hand, will fuck you whenever and wherever I want.”

  “Does it have to be all or nothing? What if I say I want to be your baby and then I don’t like it?” she fretted.

  “In the beginning, we’ll take it slow. I don’t mind accommodating your mood and behavior for a while. You can let me know by word or deed how old you are on any given day. However, if you begin trying to control the situation and I feel you are playing games with me, there will also be a new room in the basement you won’t want to visit. Down there you will be treated as a very adult and errant wife. Do you understand?”

  “No, not really,” she sighed. “Are you saying I’ll go back and forth?

  “I’m saying in the beginning you’ll have a way to let me know what you need, but I have needs too. If I find you unable or unwilling to decide how old you are, I’ll remove the choice from your hands. We will not go back to a home dictated by your mood and temper,” he said sternly.

  “I don’t think I’m that person anymore, Michael,” she defended herself.

  “I don’t either, but the attitude you brought home with you on Friday had me wondering.”

  “I said I was sorry,” she sniffed haughtily.

  “Yes you did, after you were suitably punished. Then you argued with me on Saturday, and if you remember correctly, you paid for that a short time ago,” he said, tipping up her chin with his finger. “I won’t have it, Chéri. I simply will not tolerate that kind of nonsense from you. I’m willing to listen to you and help you in any way I can, but you will not disrespect me. I had nearly twenty years of that.”

  “What do you want me to say, Michael?” she asked, fidgeting as his hand patted her sore bottom.

  “I want you to say you love me. I want you to say you adore being my little girl and admit that you’re satisfied in a way you never have been before. I want you to say that no matter what the world thinks, this works for both of us. Then I want you to think about what I’ve said.

  “Next weekend we’ll go to the lake house and you can give me your decision then. It’s totally up to you, my darling. You just have to decide if what we have now is enough or if you want more. Does the idea of me putting you into your pajamas and rocking you to sleep while you nurse on a warm bottle or a pacifier thrill you or petrify you? Will you be content with things the way they are? Do you like sleeping in your pretty canopy bed or would you feel more comfortable with Daddy tucking you in a nice high crib you can’t get out of until he answers your cries? Only you can decide, my love. Where does your salvation lie? Where is the secret place in your heart telling you to be?”

  “What about my job?”

  “You’ll give it up, of course. It makes you unhappy and that’s the last thing I want.”

  “Can we afford that?” she asked, worriedly biting her lip.

  “We can if my grown up wife can stop spending money like it’s water,” he stated. “In any case, whatever you choose I don’t see the need for expensive jewelry or designer clothes. You already have a closet full.”

  “Will we still be able to take vacations?”

  “If you want to; my idea of the perfect vacation is spending several weeks a year here with you, alone.”

  “You have a point,” she agreed, sighing in pleasure as he softly patted her bottom. “So next weekend at the lake house I have to give you my decision?”

  “Yes, and I want you to give your notice tomorrow. No more than a month, period!”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, smiling from ear to ear.

  Michael smiled back at her and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “Um, one more thing,” she stammered. “If I’m your baby, I mean really your baby; will I have a safe word?”

  “Absolutely not,” he stated firmly.

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh. You’d better think about it. Now let’s go out to the kitchen. I’ll make lunch and no pushing it around your plate like you did at breakfast.”

  “Or else?” she asked.

  “Or else,” he replied giving her a swat and placing her on her feet.

  “That doesn’t count against my ice cream,” she insisted, placing her hands on her hips and glowering at him.

  Michael laughed and bent, tossing her over his shoulder as he strode from the room.

  “No it doesn’t and neither do these,” he said, lightly smacking her every step of the way to the kitchen.

  The rest of the day was spent doing what Chéri wanted. She dragged her daddy downstairs and made him play several games of ping pong where she beat him soundly. In retaliation, he chased her around the table with his paddle at the ready as she ran away from him laughing hysterically.

  He finally caught her and pulled her into his arms.

  “Let’s go take a nap,” he suggested, holding her back against his front. “We didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

  “A nap nap or a nap?” she asked, looking over her shoulder and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

  “A real nap, you insatiable brat,” he replied with an eye-roll of his own.

  “Okay,” she agreed, “but I get to sleep with you, Daddy, and…we have fish sticks for dinner.”

  “Fish sticks?” he demanded. “That’s not even real food!”

  “Fish sticks or no nap,” she insisted. “You said I get to pick what we do for the rest of the day.”

  “All right,” he sighed in defeat. “It’s fish sticks for you, but I’ll have something else. No way am I eating that and don’t get used to this. Next time I tell you that you get to pick what we do for the rest of the day, I’ll be a little more specific.”

  Chéri turned in his arms and smiled.

  “Carry me up to bed, Daddy. I’m tired,” she said.

  “Good grief, you’re a bossy little thing. All right, up you go,” he said, sweeping her into his arms.

  “Will you rub lotion on my bottom?” she asked as she snuggled against him and circled his neck with her arms.

  “No.”

  “Why not? You said whatever I wanted to do.”

  “Because if I rub lotion on your bottom neither of us will get any sleep,” he groaned out. “You do realize there are two flights of stairs, right?” he panted as he reached the main floor.

  “Of course, I can count you know.”

  “Watch yourself, missy,” he warned as he started up to the second floor. “I can almost taste your ice cream.”

  “Sorry. I know there are two flights, Daddy, but you’re so big and strong. I love it when you carry me,” she sweetly sang out, batting her eyelashes at him.

  Michael snorted, walked down the hall and into their room, tossing her through the air and onto the bed where she bounced, giggling.

  “Move over, pip-squeak. Now I’m even more tire
d.”

  Chéri moved over as he kicked off his shoes. Hers followed and she curled up against his back, her arm around his waist. As soon as she heard the first snore, she reached a hand back and pushed down those dreadful panties, letting the cooler air of the room soothe her cheeks. It wasn’t lotion, but it was better than nothing. Before long, she drifted off to sleep.

  When they woke up, Michael started dinner while Chéri colored at the island. It was a quiet evening. Her bath, which he administered, a movie and then a big dish of chocolate marshmallow ice cream.

  “See, I told you you wouldn’t get mine,” she teased, licking her spoon for the last time. “That was yummy. Will I get ice cream if I’m your baby?” she asked smiling.

  “When you’re good,” he replied, taking the bowls to the kitchen. “When you’re bad, you’ll get a good dose of Castor Oil,” he called over his shoulder.

  “What’s that? Will I like it?” she asked, following him. She stood over the register and let the warm air flow up her nightgown causing it to billow around her.

  “It’s a laxative, and no, you won’t like it,” he replied with a laugh.

  “A laxative!” she exclaimed. “No, no way,” she continued with a shiver. “I’ve decided I don’t want to be a baby.”

  “Next weekend, my love,” Michael said. “I’ll have your decision next weekend.”

  “But I already know now,” she protested.

  “It’s ten o’clock,” he said, looking at the clock. “We’ll discuss this another time.”

  Chéri’s shoulders slumped. At ten o’clock on Sunday night their weekend was officially over. They’d agreed on this in the beginning. It gave them time to transition back to the real world. Each of them had things to attend to before morning.

  “Oh, all right,” she sighed. “I have a presentation in the morning anyway and I should go over it one more time.”

  “I’ll check everything,” Michael offered. “See you upstairs in an hour.”

  It was 11:20 when she entered their bedroom.

  “Where were you?” he asked with a yawn. “You know the rules.”

  “There are no rules after ten,” she replied, crawling into bed.

  “There will always be rules where you’re concerned,” Michael said, pulling her into his arms. “I forgot to take your temperature,” he informed her. “Go and get the thermometer.”

  “I’m fine,” she protested. “Leave it until tomorrow.”

  “All right, but first thing in the morning then,” he stated firmly.

  “Please, Michael, not before work,” she pleaded turning in his arms and pressing her breasts against his chest.

  “Why not? What’s the big deal?” he asked, nibbling her neck.

  “Because you know what that does to me and it will sort of set the tone for the day,” she complained. “I won’t be able to think about anything else.”

  Michael pulled back and looked at her in the dim light.

  “Do you know that’s the first time you’ve ever admitted it turns you on?” he asked softly with a smile tilting his lips.

  “Big deal, it’s not as if you didn’t know. I can’t hide it, although I’ve tried often enough.”

  “I do know and I always have,” he admitted. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to do it now,” he confessed, rubbing her breast before tugging on her nipple.

  Chéri laughed.

  “My darling daddy, you don’t need to worry about turning me on. The sound of your voice turns me on, especially when you’re scolding or warning me. All you have to do is mention one of the naughty, invasive things you want to do and I’m leaking,” she whispered against his lips.

  “Even when I’m complaining and fighting you, you’ve already won,” she breathed as she cupped his rough cheek. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” she asked worriedly, pulling away from him for a moment.

  “I think you’re perfect in every way. You’re especially perfect when you’re being very naughty and need a good spanking. Then I get to redden this lovely bottom. Now come here and let me love you,” he ordered, snagging her back against him. “I’d hate to have to spank you now,” he nearly growled as he swatted her bottom.

  “Oh, Michael,” she sighed. “You’re such a liar. I love you.”

  “I love you too, my beautiful, naughty wife.”

  The next morning Michael already had her coffee waiting when she came downstairs in a navy blue suit. The pencil skirt hugged her butt and he whistled.

  “That is about the only thing I’d miss if you decided to be my baby on a permanent basis.”

  “What?” she asked, taking a sip.

  “The sight of your ass in one of those skirts when you’re wearing those very high heels,” he replied with a grin.

  “Well, sometimes little girls like to play dress-up,” she informed him with a smile.

  “Good point,” he noted. “I’ll remember that. We’ll have to make sure we don’t get rid of all of your sexy shoes.”

  “I’m not getting rid of any,” she said, shocked.

  “You’ll do exactly as your daddy tells you,” he reminded her smartly.

  “If I agree,” she said.

  “Yes, if you agree,” he conceded with a nod.

  “You’re very handsome this morning,” she told him, eyeing him up and down. “I love you in that black suit. You look so judgely.”

  “Judgely? That’s not even a word,” he pointed out with a laugh.

  “Well, you know what I mean,” she said. “You look so in charge, so authoritarian. Like you could make every single thing go your way today. I wish I had that persona. Maybe they wouldn’t give me such a hard time at work,” she sighed.

  “That’s kind of a moot point now, isn’t it?” he asked seriously. “You are going to give your notice today.”

  “I guess,” she sighed, “but I’m not at all good at confrontations and I know the old man is going to give me a hard time and try and talk me out of it.”

  “That’s absurd,” Michael stated. “You’ve always been tough, downright obstinate when you don’t get your own way. I can’t imagine Mr. Waters will be a match for you in any case.”

  “That was before,” she admitted with a blush.

  “You mean before I began to call you on your behavior?”

  “Yes, now I’m sort of a wuss,” she continued as she walked her fingers up his chest. “I don’t want to argue anymore. I just want you. I want to be cuddled and taken care of. I’m sick of making big decisions, sick of the pressure, sick of being called on the carpet by men who I don’t respect.”

  “I’m pretty strict with you, honey. If you can handle me, you should be able to deal with those yahoos.”

  “But I love you. I care what you think of me and you only want what’s best for me. They just want to humiliate me.”

  “In what way?” he asked. His concern was evident.

  “I think it’s because I’m older. Old man Waters feels I know what will appeal to women of a certain age, mothers, working women. Those ad campaigns all end up on my desk like I’m some forty-year-old guru or something. Little does he know…”

  “That you’re really a little girl?” he asked gently, tipping up her chin and looking into her eyes.

  “I guess,” she whispered.

  “It’s all right, baby,” he said after taking her coffee cup from her hand and setting it down. “Soon you’ll be out of there and all that pressure will be gone. Let those young know-it-alls figure it out,” he said, taking her in his arms and gently rocking her. “You just give your notice, first thing. Then the rest of the day won’t seem so bad, all right?”

  “All right,” she agreed, going on her tiptoes to kiss him.

  “Good girl. I’ll see you tonight, baby. I’ll be in court all day, but call me if you need me and I’ll get back to you on recess.”

  “Okay. Have a good day.”

  Chapter 11

  They left at the same time, Michael pull
ing out of their two stall garage first in his Jeep Cherokee and waving. Chéri followed in her Elantra. It was over ten years old, but she loved it and every time Michael tried to get her to replace it, she refused.

  She drove the twenty miles on the expressway getting off at Dypester and entered the underground parking lot two blocks later. The ride to the twenty-eighth floor seemed to take seconds and she stepped off the elevator and ran smack into the big boss.

  “I need to see you in my office ASAP, Chéri,” he said. “We have a new client on the line and you’re just the woman to handle her. It’s a cosmetics line for baby-boomers.”

  Chéri stiffened.

  “Now, I’m not saying you’re old,” Mr. Waters said with a chuckle that shook his big belly as his beefy hand patted her shoulder, nearly knocking her over. “I’m saying you know what women want. Ten minutes, all right?”

  He was gone before she could answer. Making her way to her office, she placed her briefcase on her desk and slumped into her chair.

  “Coffee?” Mary, her assistant asked, poking her head into the doorway.

  “Yes, please.”

  “He got you already, didn’t he?” she asked with a commiserating frown.

  “The instant I stepped off the elevator. I have to be in his office in, um eight minutes,” Chéri sighed, looking at her watch.

  “I’ll get that coffee,” Mary said before she disappeared.

  Chéri covered her face with her hands and tried to relax. This was not going to be easy. The old man was going to give her a very hard time about leaving. He would probably offer her a promotion, maybe more money and he might even agree for her to cut back on her hours. Could she do it? Could she stand her ground?

  At one time it wouldn’t even have been a consideration. Nobody wanted to cross her. She ruled the PTA, damn near ran the drama club singlehanded, and all in her supposedly “free” time. She’d been a den mother, a chaperone at nearly every school function, attended all the board meetings and usually had plenty to say about how education dollars were spent in her district.