Disciplining Little Abby (11 page)

She hit the snooze button three times before finally turning the alarm off and rolling over to grab her cell. In ten years she’d only called in sick twice, so when she told her boss her stomach was a wreck and she had a fever, he insisted she take the day off.

After ending that call, she checked her email. Most of it was junk mail, but there were two unread messages from Julia that she’d been avoiding for several days now. Her little sister had her emails set to notify her once they were read, and Abby wasn’t yet ready to reply to what she suspected was a lengthy admonition about her behavior at their last family dinner. A few minutes later, a text came in from Amanda asking if she was okay. She quickly texted her back.

Just a stomach bug
.
I’ll be fine tomorrow
.

Abby snickered as she read Amanda’s rapid fire text.

Liar. I saw u leave w ur new man toy. Kick him out of bed and get ur ass to work!

With a grin, she sent a text back.

I wish
.

The irony of her reply made her smirk.
I swear I’m in the can every time I turn around
. She couldn’t imagine what her new friend would say if she knew the truth. It might be the only time Amanda was ever struck speechless.

At eight-thirty a knock on the door came. Abby considered ignoring it, but if it was maintenance, they’d just let themselves in anyway. She heaved herself out of bed and stumbled down the hall to the door to find Chris standing outside it with several bags of groceries in his arms and a large pot dangling precariously from one finger. Ignoring her squawk of surprise, he pushed past her and headed for the kitchen.

“Given your idea of cooking is a bag of popcorn in the microwave, I wasn’t sure if you had any pots, so I brought my own.”

“What are you doing?” Without her morning coffee, Abby was barely awake enough to function, and his unexpected appearance had her mind whirling in confusion.

“Taking care of my sick baby,” he said, setting the bags on the kitchen counter. She watched as he laid out an assortment of vegetables, chicken, and noodles, then pulled a small, flat package out and set it on the counter in front of her. It was a huge candy thermometer. Abby’s breath hitched as she remembered their first encounter and his warning of what would happen if he thought she was sick.

“Hey listen, really, I’m not that—”

“I know you don’t want your temperature taken, Abby, but it has to be done to make sure you don’t need to go to the doctor. Now, I want you to take off your panties and go bend over the couch and wait for me. I’ll be there in a second.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue with me, Abby. Do as you’re told.”

Her cheeks burning shamefully, Abby stood by the couch and slowly pulled her pajama bottoms and panties down, leaving them in a heap on the floor. The overstuffed couch had wide, soft armrests, and she bent over one now, her face pressed against the cushion while her bare bottom thrust up behind her. She couldn’t believe he’d found out about her calling in to work so quickly, and her heart quickened at the thought that perhaps she was about to be punished again for faking sick to stay home.

From behind her she heard a strange snapping sound. Glancing around, she watched him pull on a pair of latex gloves and proceed to thoroughly lube up one finger.
Oh, I never should have looked!
Whipping her head back around, she buried her face into the couch cushion once more, determined to keep her eyes closed until it was all over.

“Spread your legs for me babygirl, so I can see your bottom hole.”

Abby wanted to crawl under the couch and die of shame, but she suspected things would go a lot more smoothly if she did as she was told, so she shuffled each foot out to the side, further and further until at last he told her to stop. Holding her breath, she froze as his fingers gently massaged her cheeks, moving ever further in between them. When at last she felt his well-oiled finger gently probe her tight bottom hole, she bit the couch cushion and squealed into it.

* * *

Chris stopped his exploration but continued to gently stroke her tightly puckered ass as he drank in the sight of her heart-shaped bottom on display for him. Her fair skin was flawless, begging for a gentle smack or two, but today was not about discipline. Today he intended to simply take care of her and show her that she could trust him. He only wished he’d had time to do it before she decided to start breaking the rules.

“I need you to relax, Abby. This won’t hurt a bit, but it might be a little uncomfortable if you don’t relax.”

She took a deep breath, her bottom hole gave slightly, and almost immediately his finger slipped lightly in, massaging around her hole.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured gently, and then his fingers slipped down between her legs to stroke her smooth folds. His goal was that the sensations would be every bit as exquisite as the circumstances were humiliating.

“That’s it,” he whispered, “just relax.” With his thumb firmly planted in her bottom hole, the rest of his fingers began a lazy exploration of her delicate flesh, already wet with hungry anticipation. Abby’s breath hitched as he found her special button and began teasing it between two fingers.

* * *

Without thinking she arched her bottom higher, and from beneath the pillow, she heard him chuckle.

“Good girl. Now you’re ready to have your temperature taken.”

His thumb slipped out and was replaced by the slightly larger candy thermometer. Abby moaned and buried her face deeper into the cushion as it slipped in, wondering if her blush extended all the way to her normally pale bottom. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears as the cool air of her apartment sent a rash of gooseflesh across her bare thighs. She felt Chris’ hand begin to slowly stroke her hair and heard him gently remind her to relax as he moved to stand beside her.

“Now, hold very still so it can get an accurate reading. I’m going to go chop up everything for your soup while it gets a reading, and I don’t want you to move a muscle.”

To her dismay, he walked away and left her there, bare bottom in the air with a candy thermometer sticking out of it. Somehow having him beside her lessened the embarrassment of the situation. Now that he was gone, she felt as if she were drowning in indignities. First spanked over a nasty public toilet, and now this. Without thinking she started to squirm, but froze as she felt the thermometer threaten to slip out.

After what seemed like an eternity, he returned. Placing a hand against the small of her back, he slowly removed the thermometer. “No fever,” he announced. “Does your tummy hurt?”

“Yes,” she lied, figuring it was easier to pretend to be sick than admit she was ditching work because she was still mad about the night before. Without her morning coffee she couldn’t be sure, but she thought no lying was rule three. She wasn’t sure if lying to her boss counted as breaking the rules, but she wasn’t about to find out.

“Ahh,” he nodded. “In that case, Daddy has something to fix you right up. Stay put.”

She craned her neck around to watch as he retrieved a strange looking bag with a hose attached from one of the grocery sacks and proceeded to fill the bag with water from the sink. As he carefully applied a clear jelly to the end of a familiar nozzle, Abby’s stomach flipped as she realized how he intended to fix her imaginary tummy ache.

Chris was going to give her an enema.

“Um, Daddy,” she said nervously, “my tummy is a lot better now. Really. I could probably even go on in to work now.”

A smile played at his lips as he brought the bag over. “It’s okay, honey. I promise you’ll feel so much better after this. You don’t need to be afraid.”

Afraid, hell
. The thought of him giving her an enema trumped the humiliation of the gas station bathroom and the candy thermometer temperature reading put together. Her muscles clenched tightly as she felt the silky tip of the nozzle gently probe her bottom hole.

“Please don’t, Daddy,” she whined, hating how she sounded in that moment almost as much as she hated the swelling ache of anticipation that was starting up between her legs. While her mind was reeling in shame at the idea of what he was about to do to her, her body was practically dancing in its eagerness for the game to begin.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured softly as his fingers gently pried her cheeks open and the well-lubed nozzle slipped into her insanely tight bottom hole. “Just relax. This is going to feel so good, I promise.”

Almost immediately, a warmth began to spread inside her, and she felt her tummy begin to swell as Chris expertly administered her enema. A warmth began to spread in her face as well, causing her cheeks to blush furiously. The urge to go to the bathroom was almost unbearable, and she felt a strange sense of déjà vu as she struggled to hold herself together.

“Daddy, I gotta go potty,” she whimpered, shamefaced.

“Just a little longer, baby.”

Seconds stretched into eternity as the warmth and swelling continued, and Abby covered her face with her hands as she tried to pretend she wasn’t really bent over a couch, getting an enema from her boyfriend.

Just when she thought she couldn’t hold back any longer, he patted her shoulder and held the bag out to her. “Here you go, Abby,” he smiled. “All done.”

She grabbed the bag and scooted awkwardly down the hall, desperately trying not to think of how she must look to him. Even after she’d locked herself in the bathroom and tossed the enema kit in the trash can, her cheeks continued to burn at the thought of what had just happened. The most embarrassing moment of her entire childhood couldn’t come close to the humiliation of Chris’ well-intentioned enema. “I’m never lying about being sick again,” she muttered as she rested her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands.

As she sat there, an old forgotten memory resurfaced. She was six years old, and she was shopping with her mother. Or rather, her mother was shopping while she frantically tugged on her sleeve and begged her to take her to the restroom. With her eyes closed, she could see herself as a child, crossing her legs and pleading to no avail, until at last her bladder couldn’t resist any longer and she wet herself in the middle of Macy’s department store. Her mother had been furious, and Abby had been deeply humiliated. Somehow the memory of it eased the embarrassment she felt now. Something told her that if she’d been unable to hold herself together until she reached the potty with Chris, at least he wouldn’t yell or be angry with her about it.

When she’d finally recovered her composure enough to come out of the bathroom, she found him standing outside the door waiting for her. Her cheeks blushed anew as she realized he’d probably heard the aftermath of his tummy ache cure, but he didn’t seem the least bit put off.

“I’m betting a little rest and some chicken soup will fix you right up,” he announced as he turned her around and guided her back into the bathroom. “First, let’s get a hot bath drawn for you, and then you can soak while I get the soup going.”

He drew a hot bath for her, adding bubble bath until the frothy bubbles were spilling over the top edge and onto the tile floor. Abby stood quietly as he undressed her, holding her arms up to allow him to pull her top over her head, then let him gently guide her into the tub. She sank into the hot water and watched as her body disappeared beneath the thick bubbles. Almost immediately the tension and humiliation floated away and her body went limp in the enveloping warmth. Chris set something on the edge of the tub, patted her head, and then left her to her bath.

To her surprise, he’d left her a box of children’s bathtub crayons. She didn’t think they’d been around when she was a child, and her eyes lit up as she eagerly ripped the package open. There were nine total and she quickly fished the purple one out and began doodling on the tile wall. The crayons took her back to school, to time wasted doodling endlessly on notebooks and book covers while waiting for the bell to ring. Tentatively, she drew a flower, then a bee next to it, and then her confidence took hold and she colored a city skyline along the tile wall. She drew a big red heart, then wrote Abby + Chris inside. As an afterthought, she added a black arrow to it. By the time he returned, she’d decorated almost the entire wall with doodles and sketches and schoolgirl crush signs.

“My little artist,” he grinned, surveying her scribbles with a warm smile. “Something tells me you’ve been too busy coloring to get clean though.” Taking the soap from the shelf beside the tub, he lathered up a washcloth and proceeded to gently but thoroughly scrub her from behind her ears clear down to her individual toes, lifting each leg out one at a time and making sure every inch was well washed. “This little piggy,” he said with a grin as he wiggled her little toe, and Abby burst into helpless giggles. The humiliation of the previous evening seemed like a faded memory of something that happened to someone else, and as he gently soaped and scrubbed her fingers and bellybutton and the cleft between her bottom cheeks, her heart felt like it would burst.

She couldn’t imagine falling for anyone in just a few days, but there was no denying it. Abby was head over heels in love. The feelings were overwhelming and frightening. She knew from past experience it was dangerous to let things get this far this fast, but it was too late. His gentle, caring touch and the twinkle in his blue-green eyes had her hopelessly snared. When he wasn’t around, her emotions went to war, but in his presence she could think of nothing more than pleasing him. The adoration in his eyes whenever he looked her way melted her heart, even as her mind argued that normal couples did not behave the way they did.
A grown man doesn’t want a woman who acts like a little girl unless he’s a sick pervert
, a voice that sounded exactly like her mother insisted in the back of her head, but she was determined to ignore it. They were both adults. If it made them happy, how could it be wrong?

She certainly couldn’t find anything wrong with the way his fingers had teasingly lathered up her taut nipples, or how they’d slipped lightly between her legs and polished her needy button with soap slickened fingertips. Her body begged to arch into his hand, pleaded for her to pull him down into the bubbles with her, but the unwelcome voice in her head would not shut up. It refused to let her reconcile the idea of acting on her lust when she was also acting like a child.
Sick
, her mother’s voice kept insisting.
This is sick!