Page 18 of His Little Sapphire

It’s been hard to let her get her rest. I’ve pieced together enough information to realize she’s been working two jobs for months in order to keep up with her meager rent on a tiny apartment in a rundown part of town and pay her mother’s medical bills.

What kind of society makes its people work themselves to the bone to pay someone else’s debts, especially after they’ve already died?

I get angry every time I picture my Little girl working so hard day after day, sleeping only a few hours in between. It’s obvious she hasn’t eaten enough in a long time.

Zack brought her personal belongings up from downstairs. A satchel that contained few items. I had John use her key to get into her apartment. He returned with a few personal items she might like to have. He also let the landlord know she would not be returning. After that, he informed her other employer and took care of the hospital.

Her personal affairs are in order. She won’t ever have to worry about anything again. From now on, her only concerns will be which swing she wants me to push her on at the playground and which toys, books, puzzles, and games she wants to play with at home.

I’ve heard many Little girls have trouble adapting to their newfound life of leisure, which confuses males from my planet. Apparently females on Earth prefer to be more independent and self-sufficient.

Now that I’ve visited Earth and learned more about its inhabitants, I understand better. The unions Earthlings form between two people are not binding in any way. They make promises to each other on a whim based on a hunch and break them just as easily. Nothing connects them for all time.

It’s no wonder females learn a trade and work hard to ensure they can take care of themselves. There are no guarantees a male will step up and take care of them indefinitely.

The result is a mistrust that lingers after females arrive on Eleadia. Even though they can feel the bond with their mates just as strongly as we do, they can’t grasp the finality of it.

I don’t know how Christine will internalize this information when I present her with it. So far, she has mostly slept. I had to wake her to get her to take a second bottle and later a third. The Little sweetheart is so exhausted, she struggles to rouse.

I’m not sure how much longer she could have gone on working so many hours at two jobs. I suspect something had been about to give. In fact, in a way, it did. She lost her balance in her state of exhaustion and fell from a ladder. That was her body’s way of telling her she was out of steam.

I’m so glad I was watching at the time and able to rush downstairs. I’m pretty sure I held my breath the entire time. Fear crept up my spine. I knew as I approached her she was mine. I knew it before I set eyes on her in the flesh. I knew it with total certainty as soon as I knelt beside her and touched her.

She felt it too. I could tell by the way she looked at me, the way her pulse picked up, the way she licked her lips and swallowed, the chills on her skin, the scent of her pheromones over the spilled alcohol. She knew, but she didn’t believe it.

The million-dollar question all Papis face—how long will it take my Little girl to trust that her new life and feelings are real and never ending.

I need to wake her. We’ll be leaving soon. I want to tell her what to expect when we arrive so she doesn’t wake up scared in six months. She will anyway. Eleadia is very different from Earth. Some fear and uncertainty are to be expected, but I’d like to alleviate as much of that as possible.

Her hip is bothering her too. I realize I must have sedated her enough initially to keep the pain at bay. In addition, her adrenaline was high. That masked some of the pain. Each time she awakens, she winces. When I lift her, she whimpers and cringes.

Surgient came by a few hours ago to scan her again and reassure me nothing is broken. Her hip is bruised. Once she enters her six-month sedation, she’ll sleep soundly and wake up completely healed.

It’s hard to see her hurting though. I don’t like it. I also don’t want to pierce her skin and sedate her the moment she wakes up again. It’s harder to feed her when she’s groggy. Plus, I need her awake so I can talk to her.

Surgient has given me a suppository this time. It will alleviate her pain without putting her to sleep. She’s not going to like it. Human females aren’t used to having their bottoms penetrated.

It’s fascinating, as are many of their customs. It would seem they learn from an early age that it’s wrong to insert anything in their rectums. Taboo. Dirty even. It must be very confusing because once they learn to let go of the societal-imposed stigma, females learn to enjoy the sensation.

Christine will be no different, but I know from her tears and the way she stiffened and held her breath that she hated the probe. Or, perhaps more accurately, she hated that she enjoyed it.

The only way to help her get over her aversion to rectal stimulation is to penetrate her often until she lets go of her prior misinformation and trusts me to know what she needs and craves.

I’m not even going to ask her if she’s had any experience with rectal penetration, either bad or good, because after her reaction to having my fingers in her pussy, I feel confident no one has ever touched my Little girl.

Why does that please me so greatly? I love knowing no one else has or will ever bring my girl the kind of pleasure she will know from now on. Pleasure I’ll make sure she experiences every day from my fingers, my mouth, toys, and eventually my cock.

She’s not ready for my cock. It will be a while before she is. For one thing, my dick is longer and thicker than any male on Earth. It will stretch her farther than she would have experienced with a man from her planet.

For another thing, I don’t think Christine is emotionally ready. Even though I know she’s twenty-five years old, she possesses an innocence of a younger female. I suspect she spent years caring for her mother and even more working every waking moment to pay for it. She hasn’t had time to explore other interests or her sexuality. It makes me sad for her, but by Eleadian standards, twenty-five years is nothing. She will live many centuries under my care and make up for lost years over and over again.

I run my fingers through her hair yet again, staring down at her. She’s so perfect in every way. My heart is hers already. I will miss seeing her deep brown eyes while she’s in stasis on the transport vessel, but I will memorize every inch of the rest of her from her button nose to the pretty freckles that dot her cheeks and shoulders.

I wonder why her hair is so long. I don’t think it’s ever been cut. It’s unusual for females from Earth. I haven’t seen any others with hair quite as long as hers. It must not be the preferred style of most females.

I’ll be incredibly careful not to pull it too hard and risk tugging on her scalp, but I won’t be able to resist touching the silky soft strands, holding it in my hands, or rubbing it against my cheek.

I must wake her. We don’t have much time before we depart. I’m anxious to spend it with her awake. I gently pull the blanket away from her, which makes her stir and suckle the pacifier that’s always resting between her lips with just enough pressure not to fall out of her mouth.

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