by Pepper North
“I really need to go to the bathroom,” Amy stated urgently. “Could you let me out of bed?”
“Amy, you’re wearing your diaper. You can go to the bathroom any time you wish, Little girl,” he replied with a smile. He reached over the crib and began to rub her lower stomach putting pressure on her bladder. Already to the point of bursting, Amy groaned and begged to use the toilet. Mr. Smythe smiled indulgently at Amy. “Go ahead and let everything out, Amy. You’ll feel so much better and then we can get you out of the crib and cleaned up. I bet you could eat a little more now too.” He continued to press on her bladder and Amy felt warm liquid begin to gush from her body into the diaper. Beginning to cry, Amy felt so ashamed of losing control. She heard the side railing of the crib slide down and Mr. Smythe gathered her into his arms. “It’s all right, Amy. You’re just a Little girl. You’re supposed to let me care for you. Let’s get you out of that wet diaper and cleaned up.”
He lifted Amy out of the crib and placed her on the changing table. First removing her nightie, he then secured her with the belt across her waist before untaping the slides of the sodden diaper. Lifting her legs together with his left arm, he removed her diaper and lowered her to the table. Taking a wet towelette from a plastic box, Mr. Smythe began to wipe her bottom cheeks before stroking between her legs. He disposed of that towelette, took another, and spread her legs apart so that he could clean between her buttocks slowly, paying special attention to her anus. Finally, with a third towelette, he stroked over her vaginal opening repeatedly and focused on her clitoris. Rubbing back and forth, Amy began to get slick. Her hips responded to the caresses by moving, as he paid special attention to all the reacting tissues. Amy groaned as she felt a massive climax shudder through her body. Limply, she lay on the table as he patted her on her inner thigh. “Good girl, Amy. I’m glad I can help you feel better.” He unbelted the restraint and lifted her down to the floor. “Let’s go to the kitchen. We can get you some dinner and talk about your future.”
Wrapping her nude body in a soft pink robe, Mr. Smythe led Amy from the nursery into the kitchen. Lifting her into the high chair, he again fastened the tray in place and moved to get her some juice in a sippy cup. Scattering some dry, cereal rings on the tray, he began to put together ingredients for an omelet. The delicious aroma filled the kitchen and Amy’s stomach growled hungrily. She attacked the cereal and quickly chased them around the tray lifting them to her mouth as he cooked. Mr. Smythe sat in a chair next to Amy at the table and fed her small bites of the egg dish until it was all gone. Sitting back, he asked if she was full and ready to talk.
Amy slowly nodded her head. She was not sure what would happen next but somehow, she had hope that better times were ahead for her.
“Amy,” Mr. Smythe began slowly. “I’ve been looking for a beautiful, Little girl to take care of as my own for a long time since my last Little girl grew up and moved away. I would like you to stay here with me. You need to know before you decide that I expect complete obedience and respect from my Little girl. You will have to allow me to make all the decisions without question and follow my directions and wishes, or face the consequences like all other little girls obey their parents. In exchange, I will provide everything for you as a good daddy would do. You will live here with me in great comfort, surrounded by love and loving discipline. What do you think? Could you be happy here?”
Amy’s eyes had grown larger as he spoke. Did he mean what she thought? “You want me to pretend to be your little girl?” she questioned hesitantly.
“No, Amy,” he corrected firmly, “I want you to be my Little girl in all senses of the word.”
“Do I get to make any decisions?” she asked. “What happens if I don’t always obey you?”
Mr. Smythe replied with a twinkle in his eye, “All Little girls are mischievous from time to time and don’t always follow their father’s wishes. I’m sure you would be the same.” His glaze turned serious, “I will, however, not hesitate to punish you if you are disobedient or act in a way that could endanger you. I will also take care of you completely like I did earlier, caring for your health and also your sexual needs. Daddies help their Little girls feel special in many different ways.”
Amy blushed, remembering her orgasm and his intimate medical treatment. “Do I always have to use a diaper?” she questioned hesitantly.
“Only when I decide that is the best for you. You are not wearing a diaper now,” he reminded her. “Any more questions?”
Amy thought furiously. She should say no. This was the weirdest thing she had ever heard. Who lived like this? The small voice in the back of her head urged her to think for herself. At twenty-three[BB1] , she was all alone in the world. She had no money and no way to care for herself. Here was a kind man who wished to take care of all her needs and asked for nothing other than the opportunity to care for her as a Little girl. Should she risk it? Conflicting emotions crossed her face as she looked at him. “Could we try this for a trial period?” she questioned at last. “Maybe six months to see if we are both happy with this arrangement?”
A broad smile spread across Mr. Smythe’s face. “I think that is a very wise suggestion from such an adorable Little girl. Shall we start today?” At her nod, he continued asking, “I think it would be best if we brought your things here or placed them in storage since Little girls don’t drive. Would that be all right with you?”
Amy thought of her limited personal items and clothes in the furnished apartment she rented. Everything would probably fit into a couple of boxes. She nodded explaining the situation and Mr. Smythe suggested they dress and go immediately to the apartment. She could begin boxing up her possessions with Doris’ help while he settled her account with the landlord. He’d arrange for her mail to be forwarded to his home. Unbelievably, by the time they returned to the warm home that evening, all traces of Amy’s old life had been boxed up. She was allowed to keep her family photo album and a few pairs of jeans and t-shirts. Everything else went to the basement for storage. Her new life was underway.
Chapter Three
Amy’s days began to follow a pattern. She’d awake in the morning and have her diaper removed after she had emptied her bladder into it. Amy was very ashamed of losing control of her bladder but Mr. Smythe always rewarded her when he changed her diaper by repeatedly stroking her clitoris and vaginal area until she shuddered in climax. Mr. Smythe would dress her in one of the cute girl outfits that he had purchased, designed just for her on a special website. After breakfast in her high chair, Amy would have some free time while Mr. Smythe met clients in his office. Doris kept track of her activities throughout the morning while he was busy. All three of them would have lunch together with Amy being required to drink several glasses of water, milk, or juice. Amy would be rediapered and laid down in her crib to take a nap.
Waking with a full bladder, Amy would call for Doris to let her use the restroom. Doris would respond through the intercom that she would be there as quickly as possible. Since there was no clock in the nursery, Amy would hold her urine as long as possible hoping Doris would arrive in time. Somehow, Doris always arrived after she had wet the diaper. Helping her out of her crib, Doris would hush her apologies for wetting her diaper. “You’re just a Little girl. You’re not supposed to go in the big girl toilet,” she’d soothe as Amy would climb up on the changing table. “Let’s get you all cleaned up.” Often, Doris would remark that she was starting to get red and chaffed and would take out the white diaper cream to rub all over her bottom as well as between her legs. Doris was very slow and methodical in getting all areas covered while rubbing in the medicine on Amy’s sensitive areas. Amy would close her eyes in embarrassment as Doris would continue until Amy shuddered through her climax. Doris would pat her bottom and rediaper her so that she could protect all the sensitive areas that had been medicated.
When Mr. Smythe finished meeting with clients, he would return to the apartment and play silly games with Amy or read her a book
before dinner. Bath time would follow when Amy would be washed thoroughly with Mr. Smythe paying special attention to every nook and cranny. If she’d been good, Amy would enjoy a special play time in her daddy’s bed. If not, Amy would be spanked for any misbehavior and put to bed in tears. Although she didn’t enjoy having her bottom reddened at all, Amy did feel secure and happy in her new home.
Chapter Four
Now was her chance. Mr. Smythe had left Amy coloring in her nursery while he took a quick shower. Listening carefully to hear the water running in the bathroom, Amy decided impulsively to hide the jar of lubricant in the changing table so that Mr. Smythe wouldn’t be able to take her temperature anymore. She quietly opened the drawer under the padded top and stared inside. “What are all these things?” she wondered to herself. There were at least a dozen thermometers of different diameters and lengths. Thank goodness, it looked like the thermometer that Mr. Smythe regularly used was a small one. Amy didn’t think the others would fit.
Distracted by all the medical devices in front of her, Amy picked up some of the stranger ones and tried to figure out for what purpose they could be used. One began buzzing as she picked it up. Panicked, she struggled to turn it off only to drop it on the floor and have it roll under the changing table, still vibrating. The noise seemed louder as it was trapped under the wooden shelf above the device. Dropping to her knees, Amy looked under the shelf stacked with colorful diapers and wipes. She reached her arm under the bottom shelf trying desperately to grab the noisy vibrator. Her fingers glanced off the side and it rolled a little further under the shelf.
“Crap,” she said desperately and strained to reach in a little further.
“Would you like some help, Amy?” a deep voice said from the doorway.
Amy realized that the sound of the shower had stopped and the loud buzzing had drowned out the sounds of Mr. Smythe’s footsteps to the nursery. She froze in place. Her mind racing furiously to come up with an excuse, Amy slowly pulled her arm back to her side. She ducked to keep from hitting her head on the open drawer and turned around to see a very angry Mr. Smythe with a towel wrapped around his nude body.
“I’m in big trouble, aren’t I?” she questioned unable to come up with any excuse that was going to save her.
“Yes, Amy. You are in big trouble, indeed.” Mr. Smythe replied, crossing his arms in front of his wide chest. “You know you are not allowed to open any of those drawers. Those are tools for your Daddy to use when you need them. They are not toys for you to play with – ever. Come over here, please.” Mr. Smythe motioned for her to get up and walk over to him.
Amy hesitated as long as she could. She dragged her feet slowly across the carpet to stand in front of him. Amy’s head drooped to the floor. She couldn’t make eye contact.
Mr. Smythe began to undress his Little girl. Off came her shirt. He pulled down her blue ruffled shorts. Hushing Amy as she whimpered in protest, Mr. Smythe unfastened her diaper leaving her nude. Picking up the chubby Little easily, he carried her over to an armless chair and draped Amy over his towel-covered lap with her bottom thrust upward.
Amy knew what was coming. “Please, Daddy. I’m so sorry. It started making a noise and I opened the drawer to see what it was. I was only trying to turn it off when it fell,” she tried to explain.
“Amy, I know that isn’t true. You opened the drawer looking for something and got distracted. Unfortunately, the vibrator rolled away and you got caught being naughty. Why did you open the drawer?” he demanded in a stern voice.
“It was buzzing. I was just trying to help,” Amy tried.
Smack. Smack. Smack. Amy felt three heavy spanks to her tender bottom. “You are lying, Amy. I am going to spank you every time you lie so it would be better for your bottom if you’d tell me the truth. What were you doing in that drawer? Mr. Smythe demanded.
“Really, I was just trying to stop the buzzing,” Amy lied.
Mr. Smythe’s large hand spanked her chubby, white bottom repeatedly until the entire surface was turning pink and he could hear Amy’s sobs. “Are you ready to tell me the truth?”
Amy shook her head “no.” “You’ll think I’m really naughty,” she cried.
“This bottom is already looking like you are naughty,” he suggested. “Tell me the truth, Amy.” When she shook her head “no” refusing to talk, he began to spank her repeatedly. Finally, he felt Amy droop over his knee and he stopped to see if she was ready to talk.
“Well, Amy. What were you doing?” he asked quietly.
“I . . . I . . . thought if I hid . . . the lubricant that you wouldn’t be able to take my temperature any more. Then I got distracted by all the stuff in there and picked up something trying to figure out what it was. It started buzzing and it surprised me. I dropped it and it rolled under the table. I couldn’t reach it and . . . . and it’s still buzzing now. I hate that thing,” Amy stuttered between sobs to admit the truth finally. “Please don’t spank me anymore.”
“Thank you for telling me the truth, Amy. So, it’s time for your punishment for opening that drawer,” he began.
She interrupted, horrified, “You’ve already spanked me. Isn’t that my punishment?”
“No, Amy. That was your punishment for lying. For plotting to take the lubricant, I’m going to show you how much you should appreciate it.” Mr. Smythe picked up Amy and walked over to the changing table. He placed her softly on the padded top with her red bottom facing up. “I’m going to put a plug into your bottom. You will hold it deep within you until I decide that you’ve learned your lesson. Unfortunately for you, if you don’t like the lubricant I normally use to make it easier for items to slide into your tight rectum, I’m going to have to use the bad girl or boy cream.” He opened the drawer and pulled out a smaller, red jar and a black plug about an inch and a half diameter and five inches long. He dipped the plug into the lubricant several times until the white cream flecked with red coated it thoroughly. Mr. Smythe stretched apart Amy’s bottom cheeks revealing her clenched entrance. Pressing the plug against her tightened muscles, Mr. Smythe pressed it into Amy’s rectum until it slid into its deep pace inside her. Holding her in place on her tummy, Mr. Smythe watched the Little as the warming lubricant began to heat up inside her.
“It’s getting hot. It’s getting hot. Please, take it out,” Zoey begged. The buzzing coming from under the table mocked her.
“That’s the lubricant, Dr. Richards makes for naughty Little girls. The plug will stay inside you until I take it out.” Mr. Smythe ignored her protests and attempts to push the plug out. He took her hands and bound them together behind her back too high for her to be able to reach the plug and remove it. Lifting her and standing her on her feet, he directed, “Go stand with your nose against the wall in the corner. The naughty cream and the buzzing of the vibrator will remind you of the consequences of trying to hide the regular lubricant.”
He watched her struggle to walk across the room with the stinging plug in her bottom. When she reached the corner, he walked behind her and ordered her to press her nose against the wall and to spread her legs. Reaching between her legs, he dipped his fingers into the folds around her vagina. “My Little girl is soaking wet,” Mr. Smythe thought to himself as he began to stimulate Amy. When she was tensing to climax Mr. Smythe withdrew his hand, stopping to tap repeatedly on the base of the rectal plug to bring Amy’s attention back to her punishment.
“Oooh . . .” Amy moaned. “Please. . .” At that point, she didn’t even realize herself if she was begging for him to take the plug out or to continue caressing her.
“Nose to the wall, Amy,” Mr. Smythe repeated sternly. He smiled broadly behind her back. She really was the perfect daughter for him. Amy was naughty at times but always responsive to his touch. He unwrapped his towel and began stroking his erect penis, quickly coming to an orgasm. Trapping his semen in the towel, he stood there silently listening to his Little breathing roughly and the buzz that continued noisily.
&nbs
p; After 10 minutes had passed, Mr. Smythe allowed the dancing figure to turn from the corner and face him. “Have you learned your lesson, Amy?” he questioned watching her squirm in reaction to the warming cream applied to her tender tissues.
“Yes, Daddy. I’ll never go into the drawer again. I promise,” she said fervently. “Could you take it out?” she pleaded. “It burns.”
“Come with me,” he instructed.
Only when he turned around and walked back to the master bedroom did Amy realize that he was nude. Eyes glued to his muscular bottom, Amy struggled to walk quickly. That darn burning plug was making her movement jerky and slow.
Reaching the bathroom, Mr. Smythe turned on the shower and motioned Amy to turn around. He unbound her arms and rubbed her shoulder to ease her strained muscles. Bending her over at the waist, he pressed her down until her hands touched the tiled floor. Spreading her bottom cheeks a little wider, Mr. Smythe gripped the plug and pulled it slowly out of her rectum.
“It still burns,” Amy protested.
“We’ll have to wash it out,” Mr. Smythe helped her into the shower and once again bent her over so she was spread to his view. Picking up the soap, he lathered her bottom and his hands. Pressing a large soapy finger in and out of her bottom repeatedly, Mr. Smythe began to wash the stinging cream from her bottom.
