Page 14 of His Little Sapphire

I shudder.

Papi grabs my hands from between my breasts and gives them a squeeze. “Arms up, Baby girl,” he restates.

I shake my head. “No. Please. I’m not hurt. I’m fine.” My hip is screaming from being rolled twice, but I’m not about to mention that fact.

“Do you want Papi to roll you onto your side again and spank your little bottom before we continue, Baby girl?” He asks this question as if wondering if I want mayonnaise on my sandwich.

I reluctantly let him lift my arms. He stretches them high and holds my combined wrists in one hand like he did earlier in the bath. The thought of being spanked is far more humiliating. He’s mentioned it twice. I was spanked as a child when I misbehaved, but that was a long time ago. It didn’t happen often. I learned early on to obey my elders or risk punishment.

I’ve never heard of adults spanking other adults, but I think he’s serious. And to confuse me further, every time I picture Papi’s palm landing on my bottom, I get that weird fluttering sensation again. Maybe I did hit my head. I’m having irrational thoughts.

“Can you keep your legs out straight for us, Christine?” Surgient asks. “If you need help, I can ask someone else to come assist,” he proposes.

Is he crazy? I shake my head and lower my bent legs to the mattress.

Surgient smiles and pats my tummy before palpating it in about a dozen places. I wince a few times, and he moves higher, pressing circles around one of my breasts with his fingers. “Have you ever had any issues with your breasts, Little one?”

“No, Sir,” I murmur, uncertain why I feel the need to refer to him so reverently.

“The scan will show if there’s anything to be concerned about.” He continues palpating my breast tissue while Papi strokes my arms.

I’m so totally unnerved, but I simply hold my breath. The more I fuss, the longer this exam will take.

Surgient cups my breasts with both hands after palpating. He flicks my nipples several time, making me gasp and arch my chest off the bed. Suddenly he pinches my nipples hard and holds them for several seconds.

It hurts. It makes wetness pool between my legs. I’m panting when he releases them. “Breast tissue is healthy. She’s underweight. Don’t be alarmed when you start feeding her regularly. Her breasts will fill out a bit more.”

Papi nods.

“Let’s turn her again so I can examine her vagina and urethra easier.”

I panic as Papi carefully spins me so my feet are hanging off the side of the bed.

Surgient lifts my calves and pushes my legs up high, knees bent, before he spreads them apart.

I close my eyes.

Papi still holds my wrists. My breasts feel bigger than ever and so exposed. And now my private parts are wide and on display. The towel is still under me, making it easier for the two men to move me around.

Papi sets one hand on my inner thigh and holds it.

I hear the snapping sound of another pair of gloves and then the pop of a tube or something. A moment later, something warm is rubbed all around my folds and up my pelvis as well as down around my tight hole.

When I start to pull my unrestrained leg in, Surgient catches me, gripping my knee with one hand.

Papi pats my thigh. “This won’t hurt either, Little one. Stay still. It’s just a cream to remove your pubic hair.”

I blink at him. “Why?” My voice cracks.

“Little girls don’t have hair on their pussies on Eleadia, Baby girl.”

I gasp, my lips parting. I don’t know how to respond to that. I’m too stunned. That’s twice he’s referred to my private parts as mypussy. I can’t even think the word. In my mind, it’s naughty and taboo. He uses it like it’s common vernacular.

“This cream will remove it permanently.”

I can’t breathe. I’m so shocked. I won’t have any hair there ever again? Why? I don’t ask. I can’t. It’s the least of my concerns right now.

“You’re doing great, Baby girl,” Papi says.

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