Girl's (7 page)

"Thank you," she said.

"Hey, you can never be too careful with those closet monsters." He kissed the tip of her nose and pulled her close.

Chapter Four

It was 6:30 a.m. and, although still quite dark outside, already Daddy David was fully dressed. There was a fresh pot of coffee brewing downstairs and hot chocolate cooling in Meg's sippy cup, ready and waiting for her. In approximately twenty or so minutes, the sun would begin painting the sky. On such a clear and chilly morning, it promised to be a magnificent display of nature, one they would have a prime view of from the front porch swing. If, that is, he could get his night-owl of a little girl to open her eyes.

He shook her shoulder. "Wake up, baby."

Meg rolled from her side to her back, breathing deeply as she stretched her arms over her head and grudgingly opened her eyes. She blinked up at him, glanced once around the room, awash in the grey-blue light of pre-dawn, and then rolled back onto her side away from him. She sighed and tried to go back to sleep.

Above and behind her, Daddy chuckled and shook her again. "No-no, sweetheart. Rise and shine."

She pulled the pillow over her head to help block him out, but he only peeled the blankets back and her comfortable cocoon of warmth vanished with the cool air that suddenly enveloped her. She whined and kicked the bed, then jumped, her eyes flying wide open when his palm clapped sharply against her diaper-padded bottom.

"You are not going to throw a fit in my bed, little girl," he stated firmly. "Come on. I want you up right now, or we're going to miss it."

He checked her diaper, though he wasn't surprised that she hadn't used it in the night, and helped her to sit up. Catching her thumb before it got halfway to her mouth, despite her instant whining, he pressed her binky to her lips. She grudgingly opened to take it in substitute, but her eyes closed again and she began to sag back towards her pillow.

Not a morning person didn't even begin to cover it. David shook his head, unable to help but laugh a little as he pulled her upright and gave her a little shake. "Up up up! On your feet, sleepy head."

"Ithh the mi-le huv the nigh," she whined, too sleepy even to take the pacifier from her mouth.

"It's not either the middle of the night; it's almost seven and you're a slugabed." He patted her bottom and she huffed as she stood up. He could force her to get up, but he couldn't force her to be sweet about it.

She popped the binky from her mouth. "I want my bear."

He made a dutiful search of the tussled bedclothes, finding the elusive teddy bear hidden under a fold of the quilts at the foot of the bed. When he handed it to her, she hugged it to her bare breasts, glared at the binky in her hand, and with the most darling of pouts, said, "I wanna go back to bed?"

She sounded so hopeful that he almost laughed, but kissed her on the tip of her little nose instead. "Come see what I have to show you."

She made no other protests as he took her by the hand and led her downstairs, taking the steps slowly when she proved to be, first thing in the morning, not very graceful. Particularly not when yawning and rubbing her eyes at the same time.

Dressed only in her diaper, as soon as they reached the living room, he wrapped her warmly in a thick quilt, pulled her thumb from her mouth to replace it with her pacifier and slapped the back of her hand, then glanced quickly out the window. "Perfect. We haven't missed it yet."

Grabbing a cup of coffee for himself and her hot chocolate, he opened the front door. He smiled at her. "Come on."

There were two pillows from the couch propped against one arm of the porch swing and another quilt already spread over it, ready to be thrown around them. Setting the cups on the rail within easy reach, David sat down with one leg stretched out on the swing and his back against the pillows. She was on him almost before he had even settled himself, throwing open her quilt to cover them both as she lay down between his legs and promptly put her head upon his chest. Though she had moved quickly, her nipples had puckered the instant the cold air touched them and he could feel them right now, pressed against his stomach as she cuddled in close to him for warmth.

"Meggy," he admonished. "I didn't want you out of your blanket, it's too cold for that."

She just snuggled into him, sucking contentedly on her binky, those pointy little nipples burning into his belly. It was hard to object to that part, so he handed her the hot chocolate, held her to him while he sipped his coffee and rocked them gently with one foot.

The sunrise was a beautiful display of oranges, yellows and pinks. He didn't even have to prod her to stay awake, either. As she accepted her sippy cup, he realized that today was going to be a 'naughty day' when she flicked her binky from her mouth with a pop and sent it flying over the railing into the flower bed.

"Meggy!" he scolded.

But she just sipped her cocoa, cuddled snugly against him and said, "Pretty pink."

He cleared his throat. As cute as that misbehavior was, to laugh now would only encourage more of it in the future. "Are you warm enough?"

She nodded, then suddenly raised her head and pointed across the field. "Look! Deer!"

Sure enough, there were two of them, hesitantly making their way across the meadow, from one tree line to another, pausing midway to drink from the creek.

Stroking her back beneath the warm blankets, as they watched the slow progress of the deer, David bent to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head and asked the question that had been bothering him since the previous night, "Why do you think I don't want you?"

At first Meg didn't move and, if he hadn't felt her tense against him, he might have assumed that she was too focused on the deer and the rising sun to have heard him. He continued to caress her, waiting patiently until he felt her lift one shoulder in a kind of shrug.

"Is that what your mother did?" he asked. "Is that why you lived with your Nanna? Because you did something and she sent you away?"

"All I did was be born," Meg finally said, and it took everything David had not to jump up and paddle her silly. If not for her words, then for the way she'd said it: soft, painstakingly neutral, as if the insult had been repeated over and over in her mind so often that it was now little more than a brutal matter of fact. Then she rolled her head, lifting her face to look at him as she continued, "Nanna said she was a prime example of why babies shouldn't have babies. My mother was only fourteen when she had me; my father was eighteen. I guess Holly thought it would be more fun, like playing house with Barbie dolls only cooler. Except that pregnant cheerleaders got struck from the team, the dream home became my father's parent's basement, and Ken turned out to be a jerk, who insisted that Barbie get an abortion because taking an obviously knocked-up girlfriend to the prom would be too embarrassing. He threw her out when she refused and ran away with Skipper instead. I think they're in Florida somewhere."

"You don't talk to him?"

"He'd just as soon I didn't exist." Bathed in the orange glow of the rising sun, she hugged Bear close, tucking him right up under her chin. "Nanna was his mother. When she took me away from Holly, that's when he and his girlfriend ran off to Florida. He couldn't even stand to be in the same state with me."

"It's not your fault that he's a fool."

She stared out across the now empty meadow; the deer having vanished into the woods on the far side. "No, but because of me he stopped talking to Nanna. He never called or wrote her. Holly said he wouldn't come to her funeral because he didn't want to run into me."

David was glad that she wasn't watching him at that moment to see the pained expression that flit across his face. Briefly, he closed his eyes.

"He's got four kids," she said softly. "The oldest is fifteen, and they all live with him."

His arms tightened around her. Though her hurt was carefully masked by the stark neutrality of her tone, he heard it anyway.

"Holly says he loves them. I was just a bad part of his life that he wanted to forget, I guess."

"You call your mother by her first name?"

"After Nanna took me from her, she asked me to. Said it made us seem more like sisters, and folks would think it less odd since I lived with Nanna and not her."

"Sounds as though Nanna was the best possible thing for you."

Meg smiled and her eyes softened. "She was a first class lady. She would have liked you."

"Think so?"

She tipped her face up to him again. "She always said the only man worth loving was one who knew how to take proper care of a girl. Except for the spankings, I think you've taken care of me pretty good so far."

The corners of his mouth turned lazily upward. "Spanking is every bit as important in caring for a little girl, as are hugging, loving, feeding and changing. Speaking of which..." He ran a hand down to her hip, over her thigh to slip between her skin and the elastic band. He checked the front of her diaper. "You're still dry."

"I do need to use the bathroom," she shyly admitted. "I just didn't want to get up because you're so warm."

"I should have put you in your pajamas, but I was afraid we'd miss this." He sipped his coffee, making no effort to let her up.

She squirmed. Just mentioning the bathroom had brought her need to go there quite firmly to her mind, and the urge was getting much, much stronger. And after just waking up, too...Oh, she wished she hadn't drunk that hot chocolate! She started to sit up, but rather than letting her go, he only held her closer. "Um, Daddy? I really hafta go."

"I know." He stroked her shoulder and arm. "I think you should use your diaper from now on."

Meg blanched. Oh, she couldn't! She just, just couldn't! "I'll wear the diaper, but I won't-I-I wanna use the, um...the big girl potty."

She fidgeted nervously when his look turned stern and focused hard on her. "Little girl, that sounded suspiciously as though you were telling me what you would and would not be doing. I am not bargaining with you; I'm telling you, you will use your diaper like a good baby girl until I say otherwise."

"All the time?"

"Upon occasion I might allow you to use the big girl potty, but you'll have to ask my permission. And I'll tell you right now, it doesn't matter how nicely you ask, I'm not going to allow it at any time today."

"But why?" she whined.

"Because you need to understand that you'll be taken care of, in all aspects, both the pleasant and the unpleasant, for as long as you are with me. And you don't know that yet. If you did, you wouldn't think I'm constantly on the verge of wanting to get rid of you."

"I don't think that." She half-laughed, but the look on her face was anything but amused. "I-"

"Yesterday you were afraid I'd send you home because you told that little lie. You didn't want to drive down to begin with because you'd all but convinced yourself that I wouldn't want you, despite all I've said to the contrary. Off the top of my head, I can think of at least two occasions during our correspondence when you made 'I won't want you' remarks. If I go back through your email, I'm sure I'll probably find more. I'm not your mother and I'm sure as hell not your father. And since all my talking hasn't taught you how precious you are, then, Baby, you'll learn through dependence."

"But...b-b-but-"

"Do I need to give you some incentive to use your diaper?"

His hand stroking her shoulder and arm felt very large, and the look in his eyes was unmistakable. She bit her bottom lip. Shaking her head, she said, "No, Daddy."

He brushed her hair back from her eyes. "Good. I'm not much in favor of dishing out spankings before breakfast. Do you like pancakes or waffles?"

"Pancakes," she said softly, hugging Bear even as she buried her face in his fur and tried with all her might not to wet her pants. Unfortunately just thinking about it was making the urge grow stronger, and she knew it was a lost cause to keep fighting. She whimpered.

"Jam or syrup?" Daddy continued.

"Syrup."

"Then that's what we'll have," he said. "Just as soon as you've done what Daddy asks like a good baby girl should."

"I can't." Her eyes began to tear.

"Shh," he soothed, holding her tightly and gently rocking them both in the porch swing. "It's all right. It's what I want you to do."

His hand slipped from her arm, journeying down to gently rub low on her tummy, little circles that applied pressure against a bladder that already felt on the verge of bursting.

"Oh!" she whimpered, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she lost control. The warm gush of liquid flowed from her, and Meg began to cry.

"There's a good girl," Daddy soothed, rubbing her tummy in comfort. "Let it all out."

"I don't like this," she hiccuped.

"I know, but it's all right." He kissed her forehead. "You're doing what I told you to. Come on, let's get you changed and dry again."

On the bathroom floor, he lay her down on the quilt that enveloped her so warmly and unwrapped her as though she were the sweetest of treasures. She drew her knees up at his gentle insistence, his warm hands parting her thighs wide, splaying her open to him. Meg turned her face away, blushing furiously when he removed the soiled diaper and began to wash between her legs with a cleansing wipe, but he wasn't about to let her hide herself from him.

"Meggy, baby," he said, smiling because her entire body tensed. Not because of misery or upset, but because he'd just parted the lips of her baby bare sex to dip between them. Gently, he coaxed, "Look at me. I want to see my little girl's pretty eyes."

Her lips parted, her back arching slightly as he touched all the most sensitive places.

"Look at me," he coaxed again. He rose up on his knees, stretching between the cradle of her thighs and over the top of her. He leaned his forearm on the quilt by her head, bracing his heavier weight off her as he continued to stroke, up and down, the wipe becoming slippery as her arousal began to flow from her like honey.

"Open your eyes," he repeated.

Her legs remained just as far apart as he had made them, like a butterfly's wings unfurled, and her hips began moving under the motions of his hand. She combed her fingers through her hair, catching fists full of the brown locks and holding fast, moaning raggedly, but she opened her eyes and turned her head to gaze up at him through half-closed lids.