Being Their Baby (31 page)

He was filling up what looked like a rubber hot pack. “You weren’t supposed to steal it the
first time
, baby,” he reminded her sternly, looking over his shoulder at her. “You couldn’t have possibly thought your actions were going to be accepted well.”

She frowned and ran her fingers up and down the doorframe. “Well, I didn’t think it would go that
unwell
.” She got on her tiptoes to see what he was doing in the sink. “What’s the old-fashioned water heater thing for?” she asked him.

“That’s not what this is,” he informed her dryly, putting the stopper in.

“What is it?” she asked, then ran her sleeve over her face again.

“This is an enema bag, sweetheart.” He folded a towel until it resembled a fluffy pillow and hung it over the edge of the bathtub.

Enema.

Gosh, that word sounded familiar. She had a feeling it was something she’d heard in a medical setting, but her brain wouldn’t settle on what it was. It wasn’t like the word was in common usage.

She stared at the bag. “It looks like a water heater,” she said doubtfully. “You know, like one of those old-fashioned ones? Like something Bugs Bunny would put on his head when he was sick or something?”

He didn’t crack a smile at the imagery. Instead, he closed the bathroom door, shutting them in there together, and then he turned her gently around and started to undo the buttons on the back of her dress.

The undressing was making her nervous. She didn’t want to ask, and she’d hoped that he was just going to rub some lotion on her bottom and then redress her, so she let him without a fuss. Her dress fell down around her.

“Do you know what an enema is?” he asked, sounding suddenly very suspicious.

“Kinda,” she said in lieu of saying flat out “no,” especially since it seemed like something she
should
know.

“Describe it.”

Damn. She narrowed her eyes to give herself a good think, then said, “Well, probably… something to do with…” She looked around and saw a nondescript bottle of what seemed like lotion, and felt confident enough to say, “lotion?”

“No,” he replied seriously, kneeling in front of the door and then hooking his thumbs into her panties and pulling them down. “Baby, I’m going to clean out that bottom of yours by filling it full of soap and water and flushing it out. Then I will put in a bottom plug and put you in diapers.” As her brain was busy exploding behind her eyeballs, he added, “Welcome to your first bad-baby weekend.” He looked at the panties now pooled around her ankles. “Step out.”

Her mind was still exploding, hearing was going in and out, and she actually felt a little faint. All the while, she let Charlie help her out of the panties with a vacant expression on her face.

“Bend over the tub—ow!” he winced as she made a sudden leap for the door, flung it open and hit his bad shoulder with the doorknob. Unfortunately, he was quite in the way, and the door opened the wrong way to create an efficient escape route.

“Sophie! Sophie? Look at me.” Daddy was suddenly holding her shoulders with both hands, keeping her still.

She struggled against him only for a second, when she realized that even if she were two feet taller and a hundred pounds heavier, she still couldn’t beat him in a wrestling match. She couldn’t believe that he’d want her to do this, though! That he would… cleanse her? That was crossing the line. Actually, it was annihilating the line with a bulldozer.

“Sophia Lynn.” He was putting on his warning voice now. “Look me in the eye right now.”

It was difficult, but she did it.

And then she started sobbing again, because there was no hesitancy in his expression at all. He was prepared to go to battle with her over it, and Daddy always won his battles.

She whimpered, “Don’t, Daddy. Please? Please, no.” He was going to think she was gross for the rest of her life!

“Sweetheart, this is not the first time I’ve given a bad girl an enema, and even though I want you until the end of time, I’m sure this won’t be your last cleansing. You have to trust that Daddy loves you, he’s not going to break your spirit, and he’s not going to hurt you. He’s just going to punish you so that he can trust you won’t do something like this ever again.”

She knew that this was her cue to feel like she had completely trampled on the trust of all her partners and for her to just throw herself over the side of the tub with her ass in the air so that he could trust her again.

Instead, she tried to make another break for it, hitting him with the doorknob again.

Ten minutes later, the enema had gotten cold, so Charlie remade it while Sophie, who now had cuffs on her hands and feet, hung over the side of the bathtub, whimpering and begging for Charlie to change his mind about all this, and asking if it was truly necessary.

“Can’t you assign me more chores? I can wash your car! I can scrub floors with a toothbrush or something,” she suggested.

“Military-esque punishments don’t really work for us,” he replied, then hung something up on a hook in the wall. “If it makes you feel any better, I also won’t be beating you up with a soap-filled sock later.”

“What’s that hook for?” she demanded, rolling to her side to look up at him.

“Exactly this purpose,” he replied, grabbing the nondescript lotion bottle and squeezing some onto his fingers.

“You mean you put a permanent fixture in here for this? What’s
wrong
with you people?” she groused sharply. “Nobody in the
world
does this! This is beyond sadistic! This is—” Charlie came up behind her, parted her bare bottom’s cheeks, and found her bottom hole with his greased finger. That “lotion” had apparently been lube.

“Daddy, donnnn’t!” He pressed his finger, without welcome, into her bottom. “No! Nooo! Stop it!” Her complaints got shriller. She felt so violated; this was certainly very different than what was done when they just fooled around, or when Josh was having sex with her that morning.

“Stop it!” she squeaked just before he dipped his finger into her all the way up to his knuckle. Her toes were curling upon the chocolate-colored bath mat. It burned, stretched places that had no business being stretched.

“You’re going to get more spanking as it is, so don’t add to it. Stop whining,” he demanded firmly. He pulled his finger out, and then dipped it back in. “This is one tight little bottom, baby girl. You might like this sort of attention, you know, if you ever learn to relax this bottom of yours.”

“I would relax it just fine if your finger wasn’t in it!” she gritted.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be for long,” he replied. With that bit of mysteriousness spoken, he slid his finger out and replaced it with something cold and hard before she could even sigh with relief.

It was smaller than his finger, but not at all comfortable. Especially not when it started to pour warm, soapy, burning liquid into her bowels. “Eeeep!” she squeaked. “Eeeeek! I hate you forever!” She squinted. “It burns!”

“Because it has a soap solution in it. Some people give themselves these every day, Sophie. You’re going to live through it,” he told her as if she was making mountains out of molehills.

“What? Nobody does these every day! Nobody!” she snapped, trying to get up.

He grabbed her ponytail and brought her to heel like a puppy on a short leash. “You’re making me lose my patience with you,” he said with a tiny, yet very domineering yank. “Is that what you want?”

Nope. He was scary when he lost his patience. She’d seen it before: it normally ended up with her getting a wood paddle out of the closet for him to turn her bottom practically purple before sending her to bed absurdly early.

Well, God only knew what his anger meant today. He seemed to be opening up a whole new arsenal of punishments. “No,” she pouted.

“No, Daddy, I want to be a good girl and take my punishments without throwing one tantrum after another?” he prompted, as if he was so sure that’s what she really wanted to say to him.

Her lip trembled, but she repeated him.

The hot water continued to flow up into her, making her feel full, and not at all in a sexy way. More like in a soapy-water-balloon sort of way. This feeling was new.

And then her stomach began to feel weird. Just weird at first, not painful, but then it quickly escalated into painful… in the
‘I have to go right now!’
sense. “Daddy…” she began, trying to think of the right words that would get him to let her alone post-haste. “Daddy… I… I need to go to the bathroom.”

“You
are
in the bathroom,” he reminded unsympathetically, although she had a horrible notion that he understood what she meant and was just being difficult.

“I need to go
potty
,” she told him in a childish whine, using childish words, and actually it was the best way she knew how to phrase it.

He reached up over her and jiggled the red bag. Apparently not all the torturous fluid had yet made the mad rush into her bowels just yet. “Not yet. You’re not done.”

“No, right
now
!”

“
Sophie
.” This was a good, solid warning, and one that made her quiet down and think of anything else than reality.

Oh, thank sweet baby Jesus. He finally pulled the tip out of her. “Okay. Okay,” she panted. “Can I use the potty, Daddy,
please
?”

“Not for another three minutes. Keep it in.”

Despair. She was in complete and utter
despair
! Why did she steal Josh’s car? She could have gotten a taxi, probably. If she’d called Josh and asked him to hire a taxi with his credit card, she was sure she could have treated all her friends to a ride to the mall if they were unable to find a car.

She also promised herself she’d never drive ever again. Even when it was legal. Even if Daddy or Liz
begged
her to. Why didn’t she just break her arm or something? Because there was no way if she’d gotten just a little hurt, but not really, really hurt, from the car accident, she’d be trying not to go to the bathroom all over the floor right now. Knowing her “family,” she would probably be in bed getting pampered right about now instead.

“All right,” he finally said, glancing at his watch, then helping her up with a strong arm. And then he did something she would never forget—that much she was positive of—until she died of incredibly old age.

He picked her up and sat her down on the toilet like she was a two-year-old needing potty training. “You can go potty.”

She looked at him in horror. “Can you… go?”

He crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall as if preparing to get comfortable. “No, baby girl. Babies get full-time supervision.”

Fuck! It was official: she was living out her worst nightmare. Actually, no—she wasn’t so sick as to actually dream of something like this. She’d take Jason chasing her around a lake any day!

“Go on,” he urged, sounding nearly impatient.

“I’m not going,” she gritted. “I’ll hold it in until you
go away
.” She hoped that would happen in the next thirty seconds.

“Don’t give me attitude, and address me respectfully. You’re in deep trouble, young lady, now do what you’re told.”

She crossed her feet, which were dangling above the floor. One thing she really hated about living in this house? The fact that she needed a step stool to feel comfortable on the damn toilet. She was living amongst giants and had been preceded by women who wanted to feel small and tiny so that they succumbed more into their childlike headspace easier. No doubt Liz, Charlie, and Josh felt perfectly comfortable, but she felt like she was a doll using human furniture.

“Eehm!” she moaned, pained and desperate. She looked up and gave Charlie her most sad puppy-dog look, which she was still busy practicing in front of the mirror most every day.

He lifted his chin, more resolved and unsympathetic than ever. Apparently she had to practice the puppy-dog look harder.

She couldn’t hold it any longer. She just couldn’t. She put her head in her hands, and released the soapy enema from her bowels. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t cute, it wasn’t romantic. In fact, it was almost as painful on the way out as it was on the way in. She sobbed like a little girl, completely humiliated. She just wanted the floor to open up into a dark abyss that she could fall into and plunge to her death.

And just when she thought it was all over, he stepped forward, grabbed a moist towelette from a box above the toilet, and said, “All right, baby, let’s clean you up and get you started on the second one.”

She looked at him like he had sprouted horns, and then began to sob again.
Worst day ever
.

Chapter Fourteen

Sophia could cry all she wanted to, Charlie told himself about fifteen minutes later. Josh had showed him photos of his Jeep.

Charlie hadn’t normally had to deal with near-death sort of naughtiness. Disobedient little girls? All the time! He’d had little girls who threw tantrums over going to their doctors’ appointments, or who wouldn’t take their medications or vitamins. He’d had a little who had even driven drunk home. That had been a severe punishment…

Borrowing a car without a license and crashing it? That was new.

He was cursing himself that he hadn’t at least put her in diapers before now. He thought there’d be plenty of time to initiate her into the process slowly. Instead, Charlie regretted how lazy he’d gotten, since he had just treated her like a naughty schoolgirl, which was also a fantasy of his… Because she
was
a naughty schoolgirl. He didn’t have to make up assignments for her; she had them. He didn’t have to make up scenes about how her teacher called him because she was disrupting the class… Because she’d done that, and her teacher ratted her out to him! He’d been so busy with that fantasy that he’d let it roll, even though he had no intention of never pulling out the more intensive age-play.

He’d loved being Sophia’s daddy, nearly too much. There was something so damn gratifying about being the first person she’d go to when everything in her world went right or wrong. Or being the person she’d go to for advice or when she began to think about future careers she wanted to explore, or assignments she was having trouble with, or teachers or other students she was having trouble getting along with.