Page 22 of His Little Garnet

ChapterSeven

Olivia

The next two days are the most stressful days of my life. Well, I guess they’re actually six months in the future, but to me they’re the next two days after I broke my arm.

Thank goodness Papi warned me it would be weird, but that was an understatement. The only way I know for sure time has passed is because I awoke without a broken arm. It’s fully healed as if I never fell.

I’ve seen very little of Eleadia. When we landed, I was in a total panic and let Papi hold me tight against him, keeping my eyes shut the entire time we traveled to his home from the pod.

Papi encouraged me to look around, but I declined. I do not like having no control over my body at all. It’s unnerving and discombobulating. I’ve spent nearly all of my time sleeping, grateful to escape my new reality.

Papi feeds me and puts me back to bed. I try to ignore the times he changes me. How am I ever going to get used to that part?

I’m pretty sure this is the third day, and I wake up thinking I might actually have a voice. Papi had told me I would probably by today. I can’t do much with my arms and legs except wiggle them, but I do manage to spit out my pacifier, clear my throat, and call out. “Papi?”

My voice is weak, but at least it’s there. I focus on the flashing light on the small box in the corner of my crib. Papi told me it’s a monitor. He can see when I wake up and always comes to me immediately.

It’s impossible to be mad at him. He’s extremely attentive. But I’m not pleased with my situation, so it’s also hard to be happy. I’m a baby. I know I will get my strength back eventually, but I don’t think Papi intends for me to age much beyond the toddler stage. That’s upsetting.

As expected, Papi is in my nursery in seconds, leaning over the side of my crib. He sets a palm on my tummy and smiles broadly. “You found your voice. And you used it to say the sweetest word in the universe.”

He’s so pleased, making me feel bad for my disgruntled attitude.

“Say it again,” he encourages.

I can’t help but give him a small smile. “Papi,” I murmur.

He lowers the side of my crib at the same time he raises the mattress and palms my diaper.

I squeeze my eyes closed tight and look away.

He scoops me up into his arms, careful to ensure my head doesn’t flop back, and kisses my forehead. “You’ll get used to letting Papi care for you, Little one.”

“No, I won’t,” I protest, surprised by the sound of my voice and my defiance.

He chuckles as he sets me gently on the changing table. “You will. Promise.” He reaches across for a strap and uses it to secure me to the table, trapping my arms at my sides.

“I’m not going to fall off, you know,” I inform him. Now that I have a voice, I’m going to use it.

“That’s a fact.” He taps my nose. “Because you’ll always be secured when I change you.”

I sigh and turn to face the wall while he removes my diaper. I’m excited to find I also have enough neck strength to look away. The past two days I had no choice but to close my eyes.

The most maddening part is that I can feel everything. I can’t control my muscles to sit up or even roll over, but I can feel his touch. It’s impossible not to enjoy every stroke against my skin too, which annoys me further.

Now that I’m wide awake and seemingly going to stay this way for longer than the past few days, I’m building a good mad. Can a person be both angry and aroused at the same time? Because that’s what I am.

Papi is so gentle with me. He wipes every fold very carefully. I know he cares about me and wants to do everything in his power to make sure I’m happy, but he’s asking too much. I’m…overwhelmed.

I grit my teeth when he dabs my bottom with a lubricant and then slides his finger into me. He does this every time he changes me as if something might be different in there.

I’m holding my breath, trying to think of anything except for how good it feels when he examines my tight hole. I don’t want it to feel good. It shouldn’t. Why can’t I stop it?

Papi finally removes his finger, but I don’t let my guard down, because sure enough, a moment later, he slides a probe into me. It’s deeper and wider. Tighter. And oh God it feels so good. Every time he does this, it feels better, which annoys me to death.

“Breathe, Little one,” he encourages.

I shake my head, keeping my face to the wall. Maybe if I don’t breathe, it won’t feel so good.

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