Page 43 of Daddy Devious

“Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my good girl. Hopefully getting some food in that tummy will help you feel a little less cranky. I have so many things I’d rather do with my pretty little baby tonight than punishing you.”

Heat flares to life between my thighs at the dark promise in his words. “Like what?”

“You’ll see in a bit. As long as you’re a very good girl.”

Before I can even try to wheedle more information out of him, Daddy puts me down in a chair near the head of the table. But not just any chair. Just like at the cafe yesterday, I’m placed into an adult-sized highchair, complete with a plastic tray that locks me in place. More waves of humiliation hit as the rest of our “family” takes their places around the table, in perfectly normal chairs, of course.

“I want to sit in a real chair,” I whisper to Daddy, deliberately making my voice sound more grown up instead of the high, childlike tone he brings out of me so easily.

“That is a real chair, little one.”

“You know what I mean. Arealchair. Not ababychair.”

A smile curves his lips, but it’s not at all reassuring. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not a baby.”

“Oh, but you are, little thief. You aremybaby. Isn’t that right, Victoria?”

I’m all too aware of the intense gazes of my new family locked on me, waiting for my response. And even though I can’t explain why, I know in my gut this is a turning point. This is a moment where everything is about to change, somehow, and it all comes down to how I answer this single question.

AmI his baby? Or am I simply his temporary hostage? It shocks me to realize how badly I want to be his, for real, not just because some contract says it’s so.

The life I had before this was filled with constant stress, weighing heavy around my neck like the proverbial millstone. After years of caring for my mother, watching her wither away right in front of my eyes, only to be faced with a mountain of debt I could never in a million years hope to pay off, my life here on the island almost feels like a dream.

It’s humiliating, yes. Painful, too, especially when I’ve been naughty. And while my brain acknowledges this house is nothing more than a beautifully decorated prison, in some ways I’ve never felt more free than I have these past few days in his care.

Is this some strange form of Stockholm Syndrome? Am I slowly losing my mind?

Maybe. But whatever the reasoning is, I find myself nodding slowly.

“Y-yes, Daddy. I’m your baby.”

Maxwell

Pride swells in my chest at Victoria’s words. It’s a victory I hadn’t hoped to score so quickly, or at all if I’m being perfectly honest. Part of me had wondered if I would simply have to keep her locked in her nursery once her contract was up until she finally accepted her role as my Little girl.

And yet, here she is, saying the words I longed to hear.

“Good girl.” Leaning over, I run a hand over her curls, granting her a beaming smile. “So no more fussing about your chair?”

“No, Daddy,” she says with a sigh, her bottom lip puffing out in that pout I find so irresistible.

“Thank you, little one.”

Her cheeks darken at my praise, and she rewards me with a shy smile. A moment later, my staff appears, settling a bowl of soup in front of everyone. Victoria’s is in a small, plastic bowl that is placed in front of me instead of on her tray, a move that does not go unnoticed by my eagle-eyed Little girl who scowls at the offending bowl. But to my delight, she doesn’t protest when I scoop up a spoonful of creamy tomato bisque and raise it to her lips.

My friends aren’t eating. Instead, they’re watching us with hungry gazes as Victoria opens her mouth to accept that first bite of dinner.

“Mmm.” She bounces in her chair, then winces, no doubt having gotten a sudden reminder of the plug she still holds in her bottom. “Yummy!”

Laughter breaks out around the table, shattering the spell she’s woven over my friends. They turn their focus to their own meals, though I still catch them glancing up every now and then.

Dinner takes much longer than usual, since I am feeding both myself and Victoria. But the conversation flows easily, just like always, and I’m reminded of why I chose these people, specifically, to join me in my quest to create our forbidden little island.

Jasper teases Victoria, tickling her when she pouts, and my heart clenches at the sound of her high, happy shrieks echoing around the room. When Victoria balks at finishing her vegetables, Catharina cajoles her into obedience. Even Gideon and Evander join in, praising her when she does as she’s told and sending her mockingly stern glances when she doesn’t.

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