Disciplining Little Abby (17 page)

At least he could take her home. Kali was with friends for the weekend and wouldn’t be back until Monday, so they’d have the house to themselves.

“Your fault,” she mumbled, stirring slightly against his chest.

“Excuse me?”

“All your fault,” she slurred. “You like me sick.”

His brow furrowed as he started to ask her what she meant, but the soft snore that drifted up from her told him he’d have to wait until morning for answers.

Abby pulled her soft blanket up under her chin and rolled onto her back, no longer asleep but not quite awake yet either. Rubbing her eyes, she looked up to see something dangling just overhead. She reached up and touched it, and it bounced away from her hand and swung in a circular motion. Giggling, she smacked it again, sending it spinning wildly. The sound of her laughter hurt her ears, and as she began to wake up, she realized her head ached something fierce and her mouth was parched. Blinking, she tried to focus and realized she was staring up at a mobile with assorted zoo animals, the kind usually found hanging over a child’s crib. Grabbing the bars next to her, she pulled herself to a sitting position and took a look around.

What, wait, bars?

Abby’s breath caught as she realized she was in a huge crib with sunshine yellow sheets and a soft blanket to one side. It even had padded bumpers along the bottom edge. She sat frozen in place, one hand clutching the bars of the crib as her eyes darted from wall to wall in stunned amazement. The walls were yellow to match the sheets, with a Noah’s Ark motif painted along the upper border and framed prints of cartoon animals on the walls. In the far corner sat a toy chest, and beside it a bookshelf with an assortment of stuffed animals and thin, small books that she suspected would only have pictures in them. It was the room of an infant, warm and cheerful and comforting, and she was in it.

Even more confusing was what she was wearing. The black and silver bandage dress she’d borrowed from Amanda was nowhere to be seen. In its place she wore a purple cotton onesie complete with footies, and her panties felt suspiciously thick and uncomfortable. She reached back to touch her bottom. It felt bulky and padded, and oddly familiar.

Is that a diaper?
She reached for the latch on the crib and quickly released it, lowering the side so she could climb out and stand in the middle of the room. Even more confusing than waking up in it was the fact that it existed at all.

Her memories of the night before were hazy at best and went no further than getting into the cab with Chris. She had to assume he had taken her to Mr. Green’s offices, because if he didn’t, then that would mean he had a baby room in his house, and that posed more questions than it answered.

“Am I wearing a diaper?” The snaps holding the onesie offered no resistance as she snatched the front open and peered inside. Sure enough, where her panties had been the night before she now wore an adult sized diaper. Speechless, she struggled out of the onesie and kicked it across the room, then clawed at the adhesive strips on the diaper until they finally ripped free. Tossing the diaper to the side, she looked into the closet for her clothes but found a brightly colored assortment of children’s styled clothing instead. Jumpers and frilly dresses, gaily stitched jeans, and colorful sneakers filled the racks and shelves. The dresser by the crib yielded similar clothing. Everything was for a small child, but adult sized.

Temporarily forgetting her outrage over the diaper, she stared longingly at the clothing in the closet. It was all so bright and fun, and she would have been overjoyed to see them in her closet as a child. Elizabeth Joan Willis had preferred her daughters dress like miniature adults, and though Abby had often pleaded for playful overalls and silly t-shirts, her mother always refused. Now she was staring at an entire closet full of such clothing, and all of it apparently in her size.

I’d better be at Mr. Green’s place, because if I’m not…
She reached into the crib and pulled the fuzzy blanket out, wrapping it around her body as she pulled the bedroom door open. The hallway outside was definitely not like the ones at Spectrum, confirming that she was in fact at Chris’ house.

Why does he have this room? And how long has he had it?

Her heart began to race as she stepped into the hall. The tantalizing aroma of frying bacon guided her down the hall to the kitchen, where she found Chris fixing breakfast. He looked up long enough to smile at her before returning his focus to the bacon in the skillet.

The sight of him standing there shirtless and barefoot, clad only in a pair of loose cotton pants almost made her forget the million questions from two seconds ago. Almost.

“How’s the head?” he asked as he moved the bacon to a paper towel covered plate and reached for a pitcher of pancake mix.

“You put a diaper on me?”

“I took care of you,” he replied quietly, never looking up from the skillet.

“I woke up in a crib in a diaper, Chris! What the hell is that all about?”

He looked up at the wall and sighed. “You were falling down drunk and on the verge of going home with some total stranger when I picked you up, Abby.”

She couldn’t see what one had to do with the other and said so.

“Last night you couldn’t take care of yourself,” he patiently explained. “You were totally out of control, so I brought you home, changed you, and put you to bed.”

“You put me in a crib!”

“Yes, in a crib. Warm and safe and secure. And yes, in a diaper, just in case you were too drunk to wake up to pee. Was it really that terrible for you?” He set the spatula down and turned to meet her scowl. “Or did you only get mad about it after your mother’s voice that you carry in your head started telling you it was bad?”

“Leave her out of it!” Abby snapped.

“Why should I when you don’t?” Chris flipped the pancakes onto a plate and slid it across the table towards her. “We’re so good together, Abby, and you know it, but you let all that crap your mother fills your head with wreck it. The great Elizabeth Joan Willis demands everyone live their life exactly as she’s lived hers, and anyone who doesn’t is mentally ill or a pervert. It’s such bullshit, Abby. There’s nothing wrong with you, or me, or how we relate. Why can’t you accept that? Why can’t you accept us?”

“Because we’re not normal!” she yelled. Tears began to roll down her face as she finally voiced the fear she’d been living with for the past few months. “People don’t do the things we do!”

“You know damn well that isn’t true,” he said. “Why do you think I’m able to buy children’s clothing in your size? Why are there stores that sell pacifiers and diapers for adults?”

Abby didn’t know how to respond to that. It was a question she’d tried to ignore since the day he’d tied a pacifier to Mr. Jingles. The idea that there were actual stores that catered to adults who wanted to be children had never crossed her mind. She’d just assumed he’d managed to find the occasional odd piece of clothing or toy.

“You know better, honey,” he said, his voice softening as he came around the table and hugged her. “If the world weren’t full of people like us, Mr. Green would be doing lawn care instead of playing matchmaker.”

Abby giggled at the idea of Mr. Green pushing a lawnmower in his expensive linen suit. Pressed tightly to his warm chest, her angry mood quickly evaporated. His bare skin smelled like Saturday morning—soapy and clean, with a hint of bacon and coffee.

Too soon, he pulled away and guided her to her chair, insisting she eat the breakfast he’d fixed her. Abby hadn’t had pancakes since her grandmother had fixed them back when she was eight or nine, and the smell was heavenly.

* * *

Chris handed her the syrup bottle and watched as she picked at her breakfast. It was clear she had a lot of issues to work through before she could truly accept their relationship, but he didn’t know how to help her with it. For starters, he couldn’t decide if she’d been acting out because she wanted to be disciplined or if she was trying to push him away. Perhaps Mr. Green had been right when he’d said Abby needed more rules, more structure. Perhaps the problem lay in giving her too much freedom. One thing was for certain. After last night, her freedom was about to be curtailed in ways he doubted she’d anticipated, and given her behavior over the last week or so, he found himself looking forward to the punishment he’d come up with.

“Now that you’re sober, we need to talk about last night.” He waited for her to respond, perhaps even try to whine her way into his good graces, but she kept her eyes on her plate, picking her pancakes with disinterest.

“Abby, I don’t mind if you go out with your friends, but I expect you to clear it with me first. My main concern is that you’re safe and that I know where you are at all times. Do you have any idea how worried I was when you didn’t answer your phone? I tried calling you for two hours, and all I could think was that you’d had an accident or worse. I even called the hospital to see if you’d been brought in!”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered without looking up.

“I’m sorry too, baby. I had plans for us this weekend, but now they’re ruined because you were so out of control last night. You’ve made me realize I was wrong in giving you so much freedom. That was my mistake, and I’m about to correct it.”
That got her attention
, he thought as he heard a slight gasp. “You need to learn self-control, and I intend to teach it to you, beginning now. For the next two weeks, you are not allowed to cum unless I tell you to. Is that understood?”

At last she looked up, her blue eyes wide in shock as his words sank in. “But—”

“Be quiet,” he ordered sternly, and was relieved to see her mouth snap shut. “You have been a royal pain in my rear for several weeks now. I think it’s time you felt some pain in your own bottom for a change. You will finish your breakfast, and then you will go to your room. You will take that blanket off and stand naked with your nose in the corner, hands behind your back, and wait for me. Or,” he added, “you can get your things, go home, and forget all about us. Your choice.”

Chris kept his expression blank as he waited to see how she would react. Given the state of mind she’d been in lately, it was a strong possibility she’d simply walk out the door, but it was a risk he’d have to take. Things had to change, one way or the other.

* * *

Ordinarily the prospect of a spanking made Abby’s skin tingle, but the tone of Chris’ voice left her apprehensive and even a little afraid. Last night’s fun was starting to sound like a really, really bad idea. And what was with telling her she couldn’t cum for two weeks without permission? Surely he didn’t really expect her not to pleasure herself when she was home alone? She knew better than to ask.

As she stared at the last few bites left on her plate, her mind raced with conflicting thoughts.
I should just leave. Get dressed, call a cab, and go home. Forget all about this. See a therapist
. She could feel his eyes on her, waiting to see what she would do. No doubt if she stayed he would push her to her limits to test her willingness to obey. A shiver ran down her neck as she imagined herself standing naked in the corner, waiting for her punishment. The answering twinge from between her legs made the decision for her. Without another thought she pushed away from the table and headed towards the room she’d woken up in.

Once inside, she closed the door behind her and quickly laid the fuzzy blanket over the edge of the crib. Stepping to the corner, she inched forward until her nose touched the wall, then put her hands behind her back and laced her fingers together. As an afterthought she widened her stance. Perhaps if she did everything right, he would be pleased and go easy on her.

It seemed like an eternity passed while she waited for him to come. Despite the room being fairly warm, she felt the skin on the back of her thighs prickle, and her nipples tightened as if chilled. With nothing to look at but the wall, she closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind of everything but the sounds around her. She could hear Chris clanking dishes in the kitchen, then the scrape of a chair being pushed across the floor. Running water, a drawer sliding shut, the metallic clink of silverware striking the stainless steel sink.

Standing in the corner had seemed easy enough until she actually had to do it. After only a few minutes, her feet began to complain and she began to shift to one, then the other. Her shoulders began to cramp as well. But the worst of it was the way her mind conjured up all sorts of potential punishments. She had no doubt he would spank her, but with what? His hand? A paddle? Would he make her remain standing in the corner, or would she have to bend over as she’d done on his office desk?

Her back began to ache. Was making her wait part of her punishment? Abby shifted uncomfortably, mindful to keep her nose against the wall. For all she knew he had a camera stashed in the room somewhere and was watching to see if she disobeyed.

When he finally did come into the room, he simply stood behind her and said nothing. Abby could almost hear the seconds tick by in her head. Her face grew warm as she felt his eyes inspecting her naked body.
This is embarrassing
.

Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, he spoke. “Turn around.”

Quickly she turned around, keeping her eyes on the ground the entire time.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“You’ll have a chance to apologize properly soon enough. Now, tell me why you did not ask permission to go out last night.”

“I was afraid you’d say no.”

“Is that the only reason?”

She shook her head and tried to think. It had all seemed so clear at the time. Now she wasn’t entirely sure, but she knew he wouldn’t accept that. “I… I don’t know. I wanted to see what it was like to be like Amanda. Like normal people.”

“As I thought,” he said calmly. “Now, I want you to tell me why you refused to answer my calls.”

Abby wanted nothing more than to lie and pretend she didn’t hear the phone, but she knew that would be a mistake. “I didn’t want you to hear the music and people. I knew you’d know I wasn’t home.”