Obediently Yours

by Bella Jackson

  Daddy stops spanking me and asks, “Why are you lying naked over Daddy’s knees getting a spanking, baby girl?”

  “B-b-b-because I didn’t make the appointment like you told me to. I’m so sorry, Daddy,” I cry.

  “That’s right! You were disobedient, my naughty little girl. You will take your punishment and cooperate throughout. If you recall, that is one of your rules and I expect you to obey it!” he states.

  Spank! Spank! Spank! He continues to spank me with his hand. God, it hurts. My bottom is hot and stinging. After a minute, he stops and says, “Now, baby girl, go lie on your changing table so I can diaper you and get you ready for bed. Do you have anything to say to me, little one?”

  “Y-y-y-yes, Daddy, thank you for punishing me,” I sniffle, remembering my rule to always thank Daddy after a punishment. My ass is on fire.

  Daddy gets me all wrapped up snug in a diaper and plastic panties, my rear end still stinging from the harsh but deserved spanking. Then Daddy finishes getting me all zipped up in my footie pajamas, my bottom rubbed with lotion and powdered. “Go back to your naughty corner while I get your dinner, baby girl,” he orders and I obey. After a few minutes, Daddy comes back in and tells me to get into my crib and lay back. I put my head on the pillow and look up at Daddy, trying to convey my apologies through my eyes as he looks down at me disapprovingly.

  “Since you are being punished, Daddy will not give you your supper while sitting on my lap, my arms around you, which is what I had planned before I found out how naughty you are, missy! Now, you will lie there and hold your bottles, finish every last drop because that is all you get until breakfast tomorrow.” He hands me two bottles, one filled with water and the other with chocolate milk. I take the baby bottles reluctantly, upset not only at missing out on being held by Daddy, but also disappointed and sad that I won’t get to eat any of the lasagna that Daddy made. I could smell that heavenly scent of good Italian cooking the moment I walked into the house. Now I have nothing but bottles of liquid. Yuck! I drink down the bottles, happy to have something in my tummy. I feel terrible that I misbehaved. There is no question I feel submissive now. Controlled and dominated. A contrite little girl who angered Daddy and lost his approval. It is the worst feeling imaginable. Daddy walks back into the room.

  “Did you finish your bottles, baby girl?” he asks.

  “Yes, Daddy,” I say, holding the empty bottles out to him.

  “Are you still hungry? Do you want some more?” he asks, looking concerned.

  “No, thank you, Daddy. I wasn’t that hungry. I’m really sorry I was naughty, Daddy,” I say.

  “I know you are, sweetie. Perhaps we can start tomorrow off to be a better day. As bad as it may feel to you, I am being punished just as much as you are,” he chuckles. “Tonight you will sleep here. I will miss having your warm body in bed next to mine, holding you all night, but that is part of the punishment.” He takes the blankets and pulls them up to right under my chin. I turn on my side in a fetal position. “Good night, baby,” he says, kissing my forehead, then pulling the side of the crib up, trapping me in my infantile bed.

  “Good night, Daddy,” I respond. Daddy walks out of the room, turning the lights off as he goes.

  I feel like crying again as I see him walk away. When I agreed to be Daddy’s girlfriend and baby girl, I did not realize exactly what I was agreeing to. Reading stories about dominant Daddies, punishment, and discipline does not prepare you for the real thing. And this is the real thing. I am lying in an adult nursery, spanked and diapered, punished like a naughty little girl.

  Speaking of diapered, I really need to pee now. The thought of peeing in a diaper is humiliating and arousing at the same time. I don’t want to lie in a wet diaper all night though. But I really need to pee. The pressure in my bladder has reached the point where I cannot hold it anymore. I relax and, sure enough, I feel the warmth spread in my diaper. It occurs to me I have to wait to be changed. I feel so dominated and controlled. Kept and conquered. I’m forty years old and yet I am totally regressed to an infant. Being treated like a scolded and punished baby. I have to wait for someone else to help me when I have been doing for myself all of my life. Down below I feel a familiar tingle. It’s unbelievable. I am getting aroused lying in a wet diaper. I think I am horrified at myself. I want to slide my hand down my diaper so badly to relieve that ever-present ache, but I know I am forbidden from doing so. Rules, rules, rules. I usually make the rules. I’m not used to doing what someone else wants.

  I also feel guilty that my disobedience led to Daddy’s night being ruined too. Most important and profound, however, is that more than anything I feel completely loved. I crave Daddy’s touch. I miss him. I’ve missed him all week and now I am denied him due to my behavior. I’m going to be completely obedient this weekend. The perfect good girl. This is my last thought as I drift off to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  I wake up the next morning to sunlight streaming through the window and feeling a hand sliding down my diaper. I open my eyes and see Daddy. I am so happy to see him. He smiles down at me.

  “Ah, I can feel my baby girl used her diaper like a good girl,” he says as he continues to slide his hand down further. I feel his fingers probe and reach my swollen labia. “I guess you are wet in more ways than one, huh, little one?” he asks in his oozing-sex-appeal voice.

  A sense of humiliation washes over me. “Yes, Daddy,” I answer in my own small, submissive voice. I start to gyrate on his hand as he continues to stroke me. I simply cannot help it. My need to climax is so close already. “Please, Daddy,” I beg breathlessly as arousal continues to flood me.

  “Does my baby girl want to cum? Are you all tingly in your private place? Do you want Daddy to make you cum, sweetie?” he asks as he strokes my clit with more pressure now.

  “Oh, Daddy, I’m…I’m…gonna…oh, please!” I plead. Daddy continues to rub my clit more quickly now, applying even more pressure. I feel myself go over the edge. Starbursts of pleasure. It happens so quickly, I barely knew I was close enough to cum.

  After taking a shower together, we have breakfast, enjoy a quiet and relaxing morning. Daddy and I talked a lot about how I felt last night. He wanted to know where my thinking was, reiterating the importance of complete communication. It was an emotional experience for both of us, but I think it strengthened our bond, if that is even possible. Our connection is so intense, like two halves making a whole. I learned a very valuable lesson about how seriously he takes this. It has forced me to evaluate what I really want. In the end, despite being punished, it is exactly what I want and need. My dominating, demanding, nurturing, and loving Daddy.

  * * *

  So goes the next few weekends with the same routine. Happily, the times when Daddy reviewed my journal, he could see that I tried hard to comply with and obey his rules. If I am struggling with something, I just need to tell Daddy, talk it through with him. For example, I had a day at work where I was in meetings back to back. I was unable to follow my potty rules and ended up going to the bathroom when I could, which was not on schedule. That night when we spoke on the phone, I told Daddy what happened. Instead of being angry that I was disobedient, he praised me for being honest and keeping him informed. So it seems there is a balance between following the rules and informing him when the rules become a problem or obstruction to living.

  I work during the week and think with anticipation and excitement what the weekend has to offer. My world revolves more and more around Richard…Daddy. Some weekends have been very low-key on the age play, more focused on developing our romantic relationship. Other times, we have played out some of the scenarios that Daddy enjoys. The best part is that we always talk before the scene and he takes my desires into consideration when they play out. After a scene, we talk again. Daddy wants details about how I felt, what I enjoyed and did not enjoy. He is forthcoming with me too. He told me that he loves every facet of our relationship and is totally blissful about our deepeni
ng love. He also told me that being my Dom makes him incredibly fulfilled and happy. We are able to meet each other’s needs in a profound way.

  Regardless of how deep our age play is at any given time, I am still expected to follow all of my rules when I am with Daddy. It has been difficult getting used to being told when I have to go to bed, which is always earlier than I want to go. I’ve gotten used to asking Daddy for permission to go potty and we both enjoyed a weekend scene that involved Daddy “potty training” me. I spent the weekend in pull-ups instead of panties and Daddy put me on a strict potty schedule so I would stay dry. This was a challenge, given that he kept me very well hydrated.

  I expressed my interest to Daddy in playing a scene as the bratty teenager. That was a lot of fun and boy, did my bottom get spanked hard. By far, that scene taught me my level of pain tolerance. I was spanked with several implements, including a ruler, bath brush (ouch!) and, of course, Daddy’s strong hand. Up until that point, Daddy always spanked me over his knees, but as the bratty teenager, Daddy enjoyed making me bend over his desk while he spanked me with a long, wooden ruler. Daddy told me later that he always wanted to play out a spanking scene in his study with me over his desk. Boy, did he make my ass sting that night! I had to safeword “yellow” when the pain reached a point I did not think I could take much longer. Daddy stopped the scene to check in with me. I told him it really hurt and I was reaching my limit. The best part happened next when Daddy scooped me up in his arms and kissed me with such passion. It took my breath away. He told me that he was immensely proud of me for safewording. Nothing makes him as happy as when I am honest about how I feel and what I need. Apparently, telling the truth gets my Daddy hot and bothered! To each his own, I guess. We had very hot, sticky, sweaty sex after that scene and I lost count of the number of orgasms he gave me.

  Eventually, each weekend comes to an end and I have to sadly bid farewell to Daddy for another week. Interestingly, the people at work have commented to me that I have seemed happier lately. My administrative assistant asked outright if I was seeing someone. I joyfully told her about my handsome, kind Richard. Even though we keep the age play side of our relationship strictly between the two of us, it does not mean I cannot share details about the relationship I have with Richard, my boyfriend. He is one and the same as my Daddy Dom. Just as I am Siobhan, the girlfriend and baby girl, the submissive. Regardless of who he is and what we are doing at any given time, I find myself growing more and more in love with Richard/Daddy every day.

  * * *

  This weekend, Daddy wants to show me his romantic side. Daddy surprises me by telling me we are going out for dinner that evening. We go back to Giuseppe’s, which is now our favorite restaurant. It’s funny because I barely remember eating the last time we were here, when we met. It seems like so long ago now. So much has happened. We have a light and easy banter back and forth as we enjoy our meal when my cell phone rings.

  “Excuse me, Richard, sorry,” I say as I answer my phone. Before going out in public, Daddy told me that I should use his given name when we go out.

  “Hello,” I answer.

  “Siobhan, sweetheart, it’s Michael,” my stepfather responds.

  “Hi, Michael, what’s going on?” I ask, wondering what he could want. No doubt it is some issue with Elise, my mother.

  “Honey, your mom left very upset. I hurt my back and have been homebound for several days. I think your mom reached her stress limit. I just got a call from the bartender at Frank’s Pub.” His voice is so kind.

  “Say no more, Michael, I understand,” I say, knowing full well what he is asking of me. “I will go get her and bring her home.”

  “Thank you so much, honey. I am sorry to put you out like this, but I just cannot move too well with my back. I hope I am not spoiling your plans this evening,” he says.

  If you only knew Michael. “No, it’s fine, I will see you soon, okay? Don’t worry about her. She will be fine,” I say, knowing that Elise is well on her way to being drunk by now. I end the cell phone call and look up at Richard.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, concerned.

  “I have to go take care of something with my mom. Can you run me back home so I can get my car, please?” I ask, hoping he will not ask too many questions.

  Looking at me rather incredulously, he responds, “Ah, no, I will do no such thing, Siobhan! I will take you wherever you need to go. You can always count on me, baby.”

  “Richard, I truly appreciate your kindness and know that you are always there for me, but this issue with my mom, it is ugly and I don’t want you to see it,” I say, hoping he will understand. From the look on his face, I can tell I am out of luck as far as that goes.

  “Siobhan, where do we need to go?” he asks as he throws money on the table to cover the check. He reaches for my hand as he stands and leads me out of the restaurant.

  “Richard, please, please listen to me. My mom…the situation with her is difficult. Please just drive me home so I can get my car and take care of this. You don’t want to be anywhere near my dysfunctional family crap,” I plead, my voice laced with nervousness.

  “Enough, baby girl!” he states in his very dominant voice, opening the door to the car for me. I sit down and Richard leans over me to buckle my seatbelt. When he enters the driver’s side of the car, I turn my head to look at him. His face is stern, his eyes blazing with anger. What do I do? How do I manage this situation? I do not want Richard to see just how fucked up my family is, how fucked up I really am. Crap. He is not going to concede on this at all. I decide to go with total honesty and tell him the sad tale.

  “Richard, that phone call was from my stepfather. He hurt his back and is unable to go pick up my mother at the local bar. She is a bipolar alcoholic. Michael said she is upset that he has been hurt and is now royally drunk, I am sure. He needs me to pick her up and bring her home. The relationship with my mother is complicated. I know I have not talked about her too much before. There is a reason. It’s a very ugly situation. I just don’t want you to see it firsthand.”

  “Baby, there is nothing about you that will scare me away, don’t you know that by now?” he asks. “I pretty much figured there was some bad blood between you and your mother. I remember you telling me you needed to take Ativan when you deal with her. Do you honestly think I won’t be there for you, to help you with whatever the situation is? When are you going to understand that You. Are. Not. Alone? You are my love, my baby girl, my life. I’m here for you. Please, enough trying to offload me to deal with this yourself. Tell me where we are going,” he says, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

  What on earth did I do to deserve such a wonderful man? He is unbelievable.

  We arrive at Frank’s Pub and as soon as I walk in, I see my mother’s bright bleached-blond hair and hear her grating laugh. As I approach her, she asks in her nasty tone, “What do you want?”

  “Elise, I’m here because Michael is worried about you. Let’s go.” I motion for the bartender so we can settle her tab and leave. Before I can say another word, Richard starts to talk to the bartender. I see him hand over a credit card. I stare at Richard, and as I am about to protest, he gives me the look. The dominant, do-not-dare-try-to-defy-or-argue-with-me look. I smile and quietly say, “Thank you.” He smiles back at me. Elise is taking the scene in. She looks to him, then to me.

  “Is he with you?” she asks in an unbelieving voice.

  “Yes. Elise Grossman, Richard Connolly,” I introduce them to each other.

  “Are you really with her?” she asks him directly. I cringe at her crudeness and innuendo that someone as handsome as Richard couldn’t be with me. I’m only her daughter. She is supposed to love me unconditionally. Unfortunately, that is something I never experienced before I met Richard. He loves me unconditionally. Why else would he be here with me to deal with this crap?

  “Mrs. Grossman, it is very nice to meet you,” Richard responds, putting his hand out to shak
e hers in greeting. “To answer your question, yes, I am most definitely with your daughter,” he answers so politely. More politely than she deserves, that is for sure.

  “Wow, what’s wrong with you?” she asks him, looking back and forth between Richard and me. The tone in her voice at the question is cruel and disbelieving.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” he replies, “but I think that it would be best if we leave now. Your husband is worried about you and we should get you home.”

  Richard starts to walk away from the bar, toward the exit door with his hand held out reaching for mine. I can see the sympathetic kindness in his eyes as he looks at me. I take his hand and squeeze it in a gesture of gratitude as I look over at Elise. She steps down from the barstool, tipsy as usual. This is my mom in her typical form.

  The ride to Elise and Michael’s home is quiet. Elise is in the back seat and appears to be dozing off when I look back at her. I am grateful she is quiet for once. I was anticipating her spewing nasty comments about me, but I luckily get a reprieve from her miserable disposition.

  As we are walking toward the door to the house, Michael opens it, relief apparent on his face. Elise walks right past Richard and me and staggers into the house. Michael starts to walk toward us when I see the pain on his face.

  “Michael, please go in the house. You don’t feel well,” I say.

  “Siobhan, I cannot thank you enough for helping out here,” he responds, looking toward Richard. He puts his hand out and says, “Hello, I’m Michael Grossman.”

  Richard shakes his hand. “I’m Richard Connolly. Nice to meet you, although I’m sorry it is under difficult circumstances.”

  “Yes, well, thanks to both of you, she’s home safe now. I’m sorry I bothered you, S…” I cut him off before he finishes saying my name.