Page 18 of Lacey's Daddy
Daddy’s fingers dance lightly around my rib cage, making goosebumps rise all over my skin. I love how he looks at me. It’s hard to believe I’m lying here so exposed on this changing table with my legs spread wide open. I never could have imagined myself in this position in my lifetime.
Well, I did imagine it. I imagined a lot of scenarios, and Brian starred in all of them, but this reality is hard for me to wrap my head around. Has he really rescued me?
When he begins to wipe the cream away from my folds with a wet cloth, I hold my breath. It’s embarrassing how he affects me. Does he know?
He cleans my skin with several cloths until he’s satisfied he got all of the hair remover off and then smooths his fingers over my sensitive folds. “How does that feel, Little one?”
I can’t answer him. Does he mean the fact that my hair is gone or the way he’s touching me?
He doesn’t make me answer, and I whimper when he stops touching me. My heart is beating fast as I watch him open another tube of ointment and squeeze some onto his finger. I think it’s the same thing he put on me last night.
My breath hitches as he touches my special place again. He takes his time, easing the cream all around my private parts, making sure to cover every millimeter of my skin.
When his fingers circle the bundle of nerves above my folds, a rush of pleasure consumes me. My insides flutter. My legs shake, and I fight to hold them open.
He does it again and wetness leaks out of me. I’ve only felt like this when I’ve thought about him alone at night, this weird need that leaves me panting and desperate. A moan escapes my mouth, and I clasp my lips together, mortified by my reaction.
Daddy finishes with the cream and leans over me, his hands on my thighs again, holding me open wider. “No need to beembarrassed, Lacey. What you’re feeling is normal. I’m so glad you enjoy my touch.”
I can’t look at him.
“You don’t know much about sex, do you, Little one?”
I flush deeply.
He secures a fresh diaper on me and scoops me into his arms, careful to make sure my bad wrist settles against my tummy. He’s so gentle with me. I think I might cry, and I don’t want to cry.
He holds me close as he carries me downstairs and over to the fridge. When he opens it, I see there are several bottles lined up on the top shelf. He grabs one and makes his way to the microwave.
I’m mesmerized, watching his fluid movements as he removes the bottle, screws a nipple on it, and shakes it up. “It’s better for your tummy if you drink it warm, Little one,” he tells me before heading for a large recliner.
He settles in the chair, still cradling me, and offers me the bottle. “I want you to finish your bottles completely, Baby girl. You’re underweight.”
I start sucking and moan around the nipple. It’s so good, and I’m so hungry again.
Daddy smiles at me while I eat, rocking me gently. He never takes his gaze off mine. “Other Daddies on the island told me how bonding it is to bottle feed their Littles, but I never understood until now.”
I’m not sure I fully understand, but I do feel so very close to him.
He holds the bottle with one hand and plays with my fingers with the other, stroking my knuckles absently. “I know you’ve been going to the Dungeon for a long time, but did you realize you were this Little, sweet girl?”
I shake my head as I continue sucking.
“Have you ever pictured yourself wearing a diaper or taking a bottle?”
I hesitate and then give a slight nod. I thought I was strange when I had thoughts like that, but Daddy doesn’t seem to think it’s weird.
His smile broadens, but he doesn’t say more until the bottle is empty. He sets it aside and wraps his arms around me, holding me close, nuzzling my neck. “I love how you smell.”
I giggle, partly because it tickles. “You washed me with baby soap. I assume I smell like a baby.”
“You smell like my sweet girl combined with baby soap.” He sits back, putting a few inches between our faces before suddenly lifting me up a bit by the hips. “Turn toward me and straddle my lap, Little one.”
I lift my bare leg over him and tuck my feet in next to his hips, sitting on his thighs. My hands come to his shoulders.
“That’s better. We need to talk. I like you looking me in the eye when we talk.” He rubs my back over the pink shirt.
My stomach falls. Talk? I don’t like that idea. Is he going to take me back home? Tears spring to my eyes. I could probably go home, and my father would never know I’d been gone because he’s away for the entire weekend, but I will never be the same after spending the night in this apartment, warm and fed and cherished.
