Page 12 of Daddy's Little Survivor

“I don’t like it when Little girls lie. Little girls who lie get sent to the naughty corner, write lines, or get spanked,” he said, and watched as her eyes went wide. “If you’re thinking about lying, don’t. Just tell me you don’t want to talk about it. That’s better than lying.”

Monroe stared at him for several seconds, taking in everything he just told her. Had she ever been told not to lie? If she did, did she ever have consequences?

If she was Michael’s Little, she wouldn’t be getting away with lying. He took that very seriously.

Michael froze at that thought.His Little? He needed to not think about that. She wasn’t his and he needed to remember that.

Finally, she nodded her head and relaxed into the couch. He watched her body language, looking for any discomfort, but she seemed more relaxed than she had before. What could he have possibly done that made her feel more relaxed around him?

Her eyes started to droop and caught Michael’s attention.

“Monroe,” he softly said, trying to get her attention.

He didn’t want to scare her. He knew she was in a vulnerable state right now, almost asleep, but he needed to check her eyes to make sure her pupils were still reacting okay, and she needed to change and take a bath.

She slightly hummed and opened her eyes.

“I need to check your eyes one more time to make sure your pupils are still reacting okay. Are you feeling nauseous, have a headache, or are light sensitive?” he asked.

She shook her head and winced.

“Headache?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered. “And a little nauseous.”

“Thank you for telling me that. Would you like some more cold water or would you like Canada Dry?”

“Canada Dry, please.”

“After I get your drink, I need to check your eyes. Then you can take a warm shower or bath.”

Michael slowly walked past her, being mindful that she didn’t like fast movement, and got her the drink. He always had Canada Dry in his fridge for instances like this. He didn’t get nauseous all the time, but when he got too tired, he did, which seemed like was happening more and more recently.

Walking back into the living room, Michael squatted down in front of her, Canada Dry in one hand and his small flashlight in the other.

He opened the Canada Dry in front of her and handed it to her. “Slow sips. If you want or need another one, I have more in the fridge.”

Monroe slowly drank some of her soda before setting it down and tiredly looking back at him.

“Gonna be quick, Little Bunny,” Michael said.

He slowly brought the light up toward her eyes, gently opening her eyes with his left hand while he flashed the light in her eyes.

Her skin was so soft despite all the bruises she had. He wanted to help her keep it that way, take care of her in every aspect.

“I think you have a slight concussion. I’ll be monitoring it, making sure it gets better unless you want to go to the hospital. If you aren’t comfortable here, I can take you to the hospital or I can call one of my friends and you can talk to them,” he said.

“No hospital.” She sounded so scared.

Michael nodded his head. “No hospital. Promise. If you change your mind, let me know. I could also take you to the clinic instead.”

Monroe slowly nodded her head.

“Now, how about you go take a warm shower or a bath and I’ll make food for you,” Michael suggested.

She looked hesitant and he gave her a small smile, hoping to encourage her. He had no doubt she would feel a little better after getting cleaned up. Washing off seemed to make people feel slightly better, like they washed away some of the yuck.

“Follow me and I’ll show you where everything is,” Michael said as he slowly stood back up.

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