Page 13 of Papa's Little Bride
“I understand, Papa. Oh, please don’t stop. This feels…oh!” She gyrates her hips against my swirling finger and half-moans, half-whimpers deep in her throat. The water sloshes faster around her as she shuddersand reaches the heights of her desire.
When the last tremor runs through her, I help her turn over and sit back in the water. Her eyes are on me. “Thank you, Papa. I never imagined such a thing was possible. I feel much, much better now.”
I reach for a cloth, dip it into the soapy water, and commence running it over every inch of her luscious little body. “I’m glad you’re feelingbetter now. Don’t forget about my rule. Your pleasure belongs to your papa, and you will not like the consequences if you disobey this particular rule.” I lift an eyebrow at her for emphasis.
Her eyes grow wide. “I promise I’ll be good, Papa.”
“Now, stay right there and enjoy the water while I get the shaving supplies.”
“Shaving supplies?”
I turn to rummage throughthe cabinets near the sink. “Yes, sweetness. I plan to shave your cunny lips until they are completely bare. Your flower will be kept smooth and bare at all times, little one.”
Faith
It’s notas embarrassing as I imagined for Papato undress me and give me a bath. Though initially nervous, I soon felt at ease as he guided me through my pleasure and helped me feel better. Never in my wildest imaginings had I thought I could experience such an explosion of sensation if I touched my cunny. Though I promised to be good and not disobey Papa’s rule about touching myself, I’m somewhat tempted to try it later.
Maybe underthe covers at night, in secret.
Once my bath is over and my cunny is shaven smooth, the latter of which he mercifully does safely and quickly, Papa rinses me off and wraps me in the fluffiest, whitest towel I’ve ever seen. He also twists a smaller towel around my freshly washed hair. I reach for my clothes, but he makes an odd noise in his throat, and I turn around to meet his gaze, wonderingwhat’s wrong or if I’ve displeased him in some way.
“You won’t be wearing those again, little girl. A servant will return soon with some brand new clothes for you. Then, as soon as it can be arranged, I’ll have a seamstress make a whole new wardrobe for you.”
My face heats, knowing I must have looked like a vagabond to him when he first spotted me on the street. I peer at the pileof clothes on the floor. It’s the best, sturdiest dress I own. I only possess one other dress, but its material is quite thin and only suited for the summer months. It’s tucked under my mattress at the orphanage, along with the other few worldly possessions I own—extra stockings, a couple of books, and a writing journal.
“Come, Faith, let’s go back into your bedroom. Perhaps you can restuntil the servant returns. You look fatigued.”
Holding the top of the towel, I follow him and my gaze soon sweeps around the beautiful bedroom. I can’t believe it’s really mine.
“Papa, am I to sleep here all the time? Even once we are married?”
He removes the decorative pillows from the bed and tosses them on a chair, then he turns the covers down. “Sometimes you will sleephere, and other times you will join me in the master bedroom. But this is your personal space, my dear. We can decorate it any way you’d like.”
I survey the pink walls, the large painting of a flower field set on the far wall, the sheer white drapes that cover the window in elegant layers, and the various dressers situated around the room. A well-stocked bookcase rests under the painting,a large rocking chair takes up one corner, and a multi-colored rug in pastel shades covers a large section of the polished wood floor.
“Papa, it’s perfect. You don’t have to change a thing. Thank you. I’m so grateful. I can’t believe this bed,” I say. “It looks so comfy.”
He unwinds the towel from my body and produces a large shirt I hadn’t noticed laying on the bed. My heart doesa tiny leap. It’s one of my papa’s shirts. He urges my arms up and tugs it down over my head and body. It reaches me mid-thigh, and when I turn to face the bed, he gives my bottom a loving pat.
He tucks me in, pulling the warm covers up to my neck. I shift around, testing the firmness of the mattress. It’s solid but soft. Not lumpy at all, like my bed in the orphanage.
Tears prickin my eyes. How could my life change so drastically in a matter of hours? I’m almost afraid to drift asleep. What if I awake to discover this has been but a dream?
Papa walks across the room to a bookshelf and selects a storybook that looks much too young for me, but then I remember that he wishes to take care of me and treat me as his little girl. I suppose that includes bedtime storiesand the like.
“One quick story, little girl, and then you need to get some rest.” He sits beside me and flips the book open.
It’s a story about a princess kissing a frog, who turns into a prince. I’ve heard it before, but not in many years. I sink further into the covers and can’t help but smile as my new papa reads the book in his deep, gravelly voice. I could listen to him talkall day, I think.
There’s something comforting about being bathed, tucked in, and read a bedtime story. I feel treasured and loved, and we aren’t even married yet. My heart hammers and my tummy clenches, but I soon realize it’s not nerves that are affecting my stomach. The clenches are traveling lower and lower, little flips of excitement that prelude a needy ache between my thighs.
Oh no. Why does my flower feel funny again? And so soon after Papa fixed it?
I try to remain still, not wanting him to know it’s bothering me once more. If I’m too much trouble, he might not want me anymore. I close my eyes so he doesn’t notice my increasing emotion. I don’t want him to think I don’t appreciate all he’s done for me today.
“…and they lived happily ever after.The end.” He flips the book shut and leans down to kiss my forehead. “Goodnight, my princess.”
I breathe deep and keep my eyes closed, mimicking sleep and hoping I’ll actually fall asleep soon. But it’s hard to drift off when all I can think of is stroking myself until I shudder with ecstasy. But Papa is still here, sitting on the bed. I don’t dare make a move yet.
