Page 20 of Daddy Devious

“There we go. All clean. Now let’s get you dressed so we can enjoy our dinner.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

His smile is brilliant, and there’s a part of me that wonders if there’s anything Iwouldn’tdo just to see him smile like that at me, full of beaming of approval, every single day of my sentence.

But then he holds up what looks at first like a giant maxi pad. It takes my brain a moment to fully comprehend what I’m seeing. When it does, I realize that there is, indeed, one thing I won’t do just to see Maxwell Stone smile.

“I amnotwearing a diaper.”

Chapter Eight

Maxwell

Poor little thief.

She looks like she might start crying again at the sight of the diaper, but there’s nothing to be done. The longer I delay her transformation into my Little girl, the more difficult it will be for her in the long run. It’s like getting in a cold pool on a hot day—better to just jump in the deep end and get the shock of it all over with at once, instead of tiptoeing in and dragging out the inevitable.

Schooling my expression into a stern mask, I look down at her wriggling form. “Stop moving around, Victoria. Do you want another spanking?”

That gives her pause, at least, and she goes still, her bottom lip puffing out in an adorable pout. “No, Daddy.”

“Good girl. You are going to wear the diaper, but you don’t have to use it for now. If you need to potty, you can ask Daddy to take you.”

“Then why do I have to wear it at all?”

She sounds so sweet and pitiful it’s a struggle not to smile at her whining. “To help you remember your role, little one. The diaper is a constant reminder that you belong to Daddy now. As long as you’re a good Little girl, you won’t have to use it.”

“But I don’t want to wear a diaper.”

The tortured whisper tugs at my heart, but I can’t relent. “You’ll forget you even have it on after a while.”

Gripping her ankles again, I raise her legs up into the same position I used to spank her a moment ago. Pink still lingers on her cheeks and thighs, filling me with a fierce sense of satisfaction at the sight of my fingerprints on her skin.

As does the sight of her arousal practically dripping from her sweet little pussy. I’m tempted to point it out, to force her to acknowledge how much she enjoys my dominance before finger-fucking her to another screaming orgasm.

But forcing her to sit in her arousal, wet and aching for her Daddy’s touch is a much more satisfying option for the time being.

So I slide the diaper beneath her bottom, and lower her legs back to the cushion. She whimpers again when I pull the cotton up between her legs and fasten the tabs to hold it in place.

Adorable. That’s the only word that comes to mind at the sight of my sweet Little Victoria, stretched out on her changing table, naked but for the colorful pink diaper covering her bottom. Her pretty little breasts shudder a bit as she draws in a big breath, and I can’t resist. Leaning down, I pull one tender peak into my mouth, delighted when she arches up into my touch with a shocked cry.

“Such beautiful little breasts you have, my little thief. I can’t wait to play with them more.” Reluctantly, I straighten and reach for her onesie. “But that will have to wait. Arms up.”

With another soft whine, she raises her arms so I can slip the unicorn-dotted outfit over her head. I unhook the strap aroundher waist to finish dressing her, then I lift her up from the changing table.

Instantly, her arms and legs come around me like before, and she clings to me like a baby monkey. I carry her from the nursery, through the door connecting her room to mine. Raising her head, she looks around, but doesn’t ask any questions as we walk through my bedroom to my sitting room. Dinner is waiting for us on the table, the fragrant scent of tomato sauce filling the space.

There’s a highchair sitting to the right of my usual spot, but I can’t bear the thought of letting her go again just yet. Not when she’s clinging to me as if I’m a life raft in the middle of a stormy sea. It’s a small comfort, all things considered, but I find myself not only willing to give her this, but wanting to. The thought of being the person she turns to when the world around her is too scary to face is… intoxicating.

So I settle into my chair, shifting her so she’s cuddled on my lap instead of wrapped around me.

“Spaghetti?” Curiosity colors her tone as she lifts her head to sniff at the air. “I love spaghetti!”

“Not just any spaghetti,” I tell her, lifting the silver lid from the chafer in the middle of the table. “Your mother’s spaghetti.”

It’s her comfort food. The meal her mother used to make for her whenever she’d had a hard day at school or when they were celebrating something special. What makes it unique are the cocktail sausages mixed in with the meat sauce. An odd choice for spaghetti, and not authentic in the least, but I wanted something to remind her of her childhood. To give her a sense of comfort, yes, but also to tie her to me. I want every memory, every comfort, every last bit of her so inextricably linked with me that when the thirty days of her contract are up, she won’t be able to bear the thought of being apart from me.

By the time I’m through with Little Victoria, I won’t just be her Daddy.

---