Dr. Daddy Dom (Little Lake Bridgeport 2) (8 page)

"But Daddy…" Ian heard a stomping sound in the background.

"I let you stay up past your curfew to play, but it's time to get to sleep. And if you stomp your foot again, you are going to get me the spoon. Sorry about that, Ian. What's happening?"

"I can't do this, Caine. Even when she's feeling like shit, everything is a battle with Savannah. She wouldn't take her pain medication and screamed when I tried to change her dressings. She closes her lips when I try to feed her after I told her that she couldn't have any more alcohol. I suck at this dominant stuff. I'm just not comfortable riding her ass with her in this condition," Ian said.

"Calm down, it just takes a lot of practice. I'll be right there to help, okay? Do I have your permission to go Dr. Daddy Dom on her?" Caine asked.

"She's all yours. I need to see how it's done with a real brat."

"Very good. Plan on me having a very long talk with that little miss and we'll see how she responds."

"I'm so sorry. I must seem like a total pussy. I just want to do it right and don't even know where to begin. With her in so much pain…"

"Your circumstance is very different to most starting out in this dynamic, so we need to be flexible and allow you both some time to feel your way and find the sweet spot. Also, I don't think you are a pussy at all. It takes a lot of courage to ask for help and I'm so grateful that you trust me. I'm on my way and will see you in about thirty minutes. Just hang in there."

Ian returned to the sobbing woman and sat on the edge of the bed. "Dr. Marshall is on his way and he didn't sound happy that you are fighting me. Why are you acting like this?"

"Get the fuck away from me. I don't need your goddamn help," she mumbled.

"I really don't appreciate you talking to me like this. As for not needing me, who do you think you're fooling? Both your wrists are broken and casted, and even if you could get out of bed yourself, you can't do anything except walk around. You can't feed yourself, you can't dress yourself, you can't change your own dressings. Hell, you can't even go to the bathroom without help! Like it or not, you need me right now, and nothing you can say or do is going to change that."

"I don't need anyone," she wept. "You're divorcing me anyway, so why bother with this martyr bit? Is this your agenda to make you look good in front of your friends?"

"I've never done anything to make myself look good to anyone, and you know it. The only agenda on my plate is to help you recover and do my damndest to use this chance to heal our marriage. I love you, Savannah, and I remember a time when you said that you loved me. Was that all lip service? Answer me!"

She turned her head, wincing with pain from the torn muscles of her neck. "I loved you once, but that stopped long ago."

"Why? What did I do to lose your love?" Ian asked, standing and tightly crossing his arms around his chest, pushing back the heart-wrenching feelings of fear, despair and loss.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That's what you say every time I bring up the past and try to figure out what happened to us. Was I just a way to get even with your father? Did you marry me because you knew that he hated me?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what? You owe me an explanation."

"I don't owe you anything," she hissed.

"You pursued me, if you recall. You didn't give up the hunt until I married you. And then your mother died in that accident, and you changed. The alcohol, the attitude, the coldness… I tried to accept this behavior as a form of grief, but then you got angry with me because I refused to fight with you. Why?"

"There are some things that are better left unsaid, Ian. This is one of them."

He watched as she tried to moisten her lips by rubbing them together and, with a sigh, he leaned across the bed to apply the balm. "I just don't understand why you don't trust me. I've always been there for you, haven't I?"

She was quiet for a moment before saying, "Thank you, and yes."

"You're welcome. Vanna, you said that you didn't want a divorce, but why would you stay married to someone you hate?"

"I don't hate you."

"But you don't love me, either. Nor do you respect me," Ian said.

"I don't know how I feel about anyone, not even myself."

"That's fair enough. We're going to get through this, but I can't keep fighting you every step of the way. I'm no good to you if you don't trust me, so I'm going to see what Dr. Marshall says, and then we'll make plans about transferring you into rehab. Why are you crying now?" Ian was genuinely confused.

"You're going to abandon me."

"Dear God, woman! Make up your fucking mind." Frustration took over and he threw his arms into the air. "If you want me to take care of you, then you need to cooperate with me and stop turning everything into a battleground. Why must you be so damn obstinate?"

"Stop yelling at me!"

"I've never once even raised my voice. You know that I refuse to sink down to your father's level of fighting and will never shout or insult you, so stop trying to provoke me. I need some air. I'm going outside to wait for Caine, while you stay here and think about how deliberately difficult you are being with me—and why," Ian said, heeding his friend's advice to remove himself from the situation if she tried to provoke him.

Sitting heavily on the rocking chair on the front porch, he propped his chin on his hands and practiced the deep breathing exercises that he used to calm his nerves before mounting a raging bull. Riding in the arena was child's play in comparison to trying to get Savannah to cooperate and exercise civility, and the injuries accrued in the bull pits didn't hurt half as much as the ones she inflicted on his heart.
What am I doing wrong?

The streets were quiet, lit by warm, amber faux gas lamps in glowing frosted globes. Several of the houses still had their porch lights gleaming cheerfully, giving the neighborhood a welcoming feel. Ian liked it here, with the peaceful quiet and sense of safety with no liquor stores, bars or any other sordid entertainment to be found within a ten mile radius. It would have been a nice place to live, but without the age-play element, would he be allowed to stay? Probably not, especially as a single man. Only a miracle could save his marriage, but he was a realist. Miracles only existed in children's stories and the Good Book, not in real life. Especially his…

"Hey, buddy," Caine said, rushing out of his truck to give his friend a quick hug. "I got here as soon as I could. Tell me exactly what's going on."

As Ian explained, he watched his friend's expression change. Caine's height and shoulder girth equaled those of his older brother, but he seemed to grow taller and more intimidating as the story unfolded, showing Ian the man May described as 'Dr. Daddy Dom'.

"I'll take care of this. Do you have any limits or restrictions for me?" Caine said.

"No. Like I said, she's in your hands. Show me what I need to do."

The two men went back into the sickroom. Caine set his medical bag on the end of the bed and then stood before the teary-eyed girl, his hands on his waist. "Savannah? Why aren't you cooperating with Ian? He's just following my instructions and doing what's best for you."

"I don't want him touching me. I don't want anyone," she mumbled.

"Well, young lady, let me tell you exactly how things are going to go from now on, and I don't want to hear any lip from you. You are here, like it or not, and will do as I say, understand?" His tone was firm, unwavering and calm. "I'm going to take care of you right now, but once I leave, Ian is in charge. Before you say anything, I am going to warn you that I don't take any trash from anyone, especially a sassy-mouthed but totally adorable little girl. So, if you even think about giving me problems, Uncle Ian here will carry you straight to that corner and you can stay there until I get tired of looking at the back of your head. Understand, missy?"

A look of stunned amazement crossed her face and she widened her eyes as his words and demeanor sank in. Her lower lip trembled as she slowly nodded.

"Good. Tell me why you refused your medication. I know you're still in pain and your dressing needs to be changed," Caine said.

"It tastes horrible and makes me sick to my stomach," she mumbled.

Caine raised his eyebrow. "I ordered cherry-flavored liquid codeine for you, something that
children
take without complaining. As for your tummy, it's probably because you are taking it on an empty stomach."

"Well, I still don't like it. It's nasty."

"I can remedy that. Ian, hand me my bag, please. To start," Caine said, reaching in and pulling out a glass thermometer, "we are going to make sure that you aren't fighting an infection."

"What the hell are you doing?" Savannah said.

"I'm turning you over. Did you think I was going to stick the thermometer in your mouth? Your jaw is wired shut and I don't believe that a buccal temperature is accurate. No more swearing, either."

"Buccal?" Ian asked.

"The readings from her cheek," Caine explained, shaking the thermometer down and then sliding it into a little package of KY jelly. He undid the tabs of the diaper, ignoring Savannah's helpless plea to stop. "I also don't believe that naughty little girls deserve the dignity of having their temperature taken either orally or tympanically."

"Stop! Please! Ian!"

"I will not. I will also tell you, quite emphatically, that your backside suffered no injury in the accident. Keep fighting
me
and I will use a switch on it. Incidentally, your husband has given me full permission to apply whatever is necessary to aid in altering your attitude. Are you ready to behave yourself?" Caine said.

"You can't do this." Savannah began to whimper as Caine pried her bottom globes apart and then slid the cold, glass rod into her tight sphincter. He held it in place, tucked between his index and middle fingers, and rested his hand across her bare backside.

"Has she eaten yet today?" he addressed Ian.

"No. She also refused more than a few sips of water. I even tried Kool-Aid and juice, but she wouldn't cooperate."

"I see. Savannah, you will be following the diet that I prescribed for you. No more refusing meals and I expect you to drink plenty of fluids," Caine told the girl.

"I can't," she wept, unable to defend herself from the hand that still held the instrument in place in her bottom.

"And why not?"

"Then I'll have to go, and—"

"So the prospect of urinating and moving your bowels is why you are being so stubborn? Everyone does it, remember? Starving yourself will only make this humiliating situation last longer, and dehydration will not only cause you physical problems, but will end up with you being constipated. Just an 'fyi', I have absolutely
no
qualms about administering a daily enema. Is that what you prefer? Just say the word and we can start right now."

With her back turned to them, Ian could only imagine the horrified expression on her face. He caught Caine's wink and smiled as the doctor continued. "I'm waiting for your answer, Miss Vanna. I'm giving you this one opportunity to make a choice, otherwise, I am going to make it for you."

"I'll drink the damn water." Her voice sounded like an angry growl and she muttered another obscenity.

"Not a very submissive response, but we can work on that later. Did you just call me an asshole? Ian, please remind me to put her over my knee as soon as she's all better. Such insults are uncalled for and a sign of ingratitude. I guess she didn't think I was serious when I said that I tolerate no guff from anyone, especially a naughty little girl."

"Yes, sir. I'll be more than happy to remind you," Ian said with a chuckle. "Now you know what I've had to deal with."

"Well, that attitude will be altered pretty soon. If not now, then in the near future. Let's see," Cain said, removing the thermometer and wiping it off. "She's running a low-grade at 99.8. I think hydration and some food might knock that down, but let's give her some Tylenol just in case."

"What's that?" Ian asked as Caine pulled a Ziploc containing several bullet-shaped items out of his bag.

"Suppositories. Since she doesn't like the taste of her medications, we might as well stay rectal. I tend to believe that they are more effective when inserted in that manner, anyway. Let me show you how to do it," Caine said.

"No! Ian! No!" Savannah kicked and tried to turn to a supine position, but failed as Caine gently leaned against her back, anchoring her against his hip.

"Peel back the wings to expose the tapered part and place the tip in the lubrication. Put on your gloves and then add some lube to your index finger. Since she's on her side, it's easiest to bend her knee and hike her free leg up towards her chest, and then tilt her forward until her knee rests against the mattress. See how that position completely exposes her anus?" Caine explained.

Ian stared at the winking pink rosebud with delight. His wife had never allowed him to touch her there, let alone look directly at it. He nodded eagerly.

"Why are you screaming? No one has hurt you," Caine scolded the girl and then returned to his instruction. "With your finger, massage the soft outside tissue surrounding the sphincter. This action helps to relax the muscles and prepares her to take the suppository. I try to make the procedure a little more comfortable by gently introducing my finger."