Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Gideon
A delicious mixture of fear and curiosity swirls in Isabella’s wide, amber eyes. Her pupils are still blown, telling me what I already know—my Little girl is just as turned on by our play as I am. My cock strains against my dress pants, and a desperate need claws at my chest as I look down at the naked, helpless form in front of me.
How easy it would be to pull my aching cock free and slide it between her pretty, glistening pussy lips. The changing table was built for just that purpose, to allow an eager Daddy all the access he needs to his Little one.
But my family has its traditions, and I know Isabella’s uncles and her Auntie Cat would be devastated if they missed that first claiming, so I force myself to wait. There is no tradition, however, that says I must wait to claim other parts of Isabella’s sweet body, and I warm myself with that knowledge as I open the top drawer of the changing table.
Inside are various items meant to help soothe a fussy babygirl. Pacifiers with different designs, suppositories full of calming medicine. But what I am in search of is something different altogether, an item that can be used for both punishment or pleasure.
It’s poor Isabella’s bad luck that she chose to lie to me, and so her first experience with this item will be a punishment rather than the alternative.
Plucking the small pink device from the drawer, I push Isabella’s knees apart, baring her pussy with its neatly trimmed hair to my gaze. The hair will need to go soon, and I make a mental note to ask Cat if she’d like to accompany us to the salon.
“What are you doing?” Isabella’s voice rises to a shrill shriek as she tries to slam her knees back together. I am, of course, much stronger, but years of dance have given Isabella enough strength to make things more difficult for me than I would like.
Setting the device aside, I swat the inside of each thigh, hard enough to leave a clear, raised impression of my handprint on her delicate skin.
“Ow!” Tears sparkle on her dark lashes and her bottom lip trembles, transforming her before my eyes into the perfect picture of a contrite Little girl. “That hurt!”
“I’m sure it did. And unless you want more, you’ll keep those legs apart, little girl.”
With a loud, dramatic sniff, she slowly parts her legs, just a fraction.
“Wider, Isabella. Do not try to hide your pussy from your Daddy.”
She whines, a sound so pitiful it stirs something in my chest. Not pity, though I’m sure that’s what she’s hoping for. No, the feeling she inspires is something darker, far more primal, and the moment her thighs fall open, I can’t resist the urge to lean down and press a gentle kiss to her swollen clit.
Gasping, she arches up, or at least as much as the leather band across her stomach will allow. “Daddy!”
The sound of her crying out for me nearly unravels the already tenuous hold I have on my self-control. I want nothing more than to bury my face in the sweet, musky scent of her arousal, tasting and teasing her until she comes, screaming for her Daddy.
But naughty Little girls who tell lies don’t get the pleasure of coming all over Daddy’s face, so I resist. Sighing quietly, I stand up, forcing my expression into stern lines as I look down at her. “You were very naughty this morning, Isabella.”
Confusion knits her brow. “Wh-what do you mean?”
Picking up the pink toy again, I use my free hand to part her pussy lips so I can slide the phallic attachment inside her, earning me a look of wide-eyed horror from my Little girl. “You lied to Daddy earlier. When I asked if you wanted me to make you come. And then you used a very naughty word.”
The device nestles neatly between her lips, with the tip pressed firmly against her clit. I pull the remote from the drawer and hit a button, my lips curving up in a smile of pure satisfaction when Isabella gasps and wriggles in response. “Perhaps spending the day with this delightful toy in your wet, needy pussy will help you remember not to lie to Daddy again.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t ever lie again! Please take it out!”
“No.” Setting the remote aside, I pick up a diaper adorned with fluffy rabbits frolicking along the fabric. “You are being punished, Isabella, and Daddy decides when your punishment is over.”
The sound of her whining and whimpering has my cock straining painfully against my slacks as I grip her ankles, lifting her legs into the air so I can slide the diaper beneath her bottom. Luckily for my little doll, she doesn’t fight me as I wrap her in the soft cotton. With her properly diapered, I unbuckle the strap across her waist and lift her into my arms.
My heart cracks when she immediately wraps her arms around my neck, burying her face against my shoulder. I knew the moment I saw her that she would be perfect for me, but even I couldn’t have anticipated exactly how perfect she would be.
Rubbing my hand across her bare back, noting with another pang of grief and anger how her spine presses against her skin, I bounce her lightly as I carry her into the large closet just off her nursery. Mountains of tulle and satin greet me as I step inside, and I grin at the offerings. I’ve spent months building her wardrobe to my exact specifications and now I finally get the pleasure of dressing my little doll.
And I already know exactly which dress I’m going to choose first. Heart pounding against my ribs, I carefully pull the white and pink masterpiece down from the dowel. It’s far more intricate than most of Solene’s dresses, as evidenced by how much it cost to have it made exactly the way I wanted it. But it will be all worth it when I finally get to see my Little one in it.
Setting Isabella on her feet, I hold the dress up for her inspection, and to my delight, her eyes go round with wonder at the sight of it. Tentatively, she reaches out, running the tips of her fingers over the pink satin. “Is this for me?”
“Everything in this closet is for you, little one. Arms up.”
Still wide-eyed, she raises her arms so I can slip the dress over her head. The ruffles settle around her hips, leaving her long legs bare. Apparently delighted by her dress, Isabella twirls in place, her high-pitched giggles echoing around the room.
“Oh, it’s beautiful! I’ve never had anything so pretty before!”
“A beautiful dress for a beautiful Little girl.”
Pink, a few shades darker than the rose of her dress, rushes to her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, little one. Now, stand right there. We need just a few more finishing touches.”
She watches on, curiosity stamped all over her delicate face as I pull open a drawer and retrieve a pair of knee-high socks, followed by a careful perusal of the shoes lining the opposite wall of the closet. Black Mary Janes. They’re a classic for a reason, after all.
When she’s fully dressed, I carry her back to the bathroom to carefully curl her hair into dark shining ringlets. A headband with a pink bow in the exact shade of her dress tops off the look and I take a step back to admire my work.
My sweet Little girl. My precious gift.
My perfect little doll.
And she is finally, finally, all mine.
* * *
Isabella
I look… like a doll. Like a living, breathing doll, the old kind with the pale skin and rosy cheeks and perfectly curled hair you might find behind glass in an antique shop somewhere.
It probably shouldn’t be a shock, since that’s what he’s been calling me from the moment I woke up in this strange house. But somehow it is, and for a long while all I can do is stare at the doll in the mirror who looks like me but not quite like me at the same time. Even the soft buzzing of the vibrator against my clit isn’t enough to distract me from the sight in front of me.
The dress is just as beautiful on me as it was on the hanger, possibly more so. And it doesn’t escape my notice that it seems perfectly tailored to my body, as if he had it made just for me. But that can’t possibly be true.
Can it?
“Time for breakfast, little one.”
I’m still trying to process what I’ve just seen in the mirror when he scoops me up again, and I’m forced to wrap myself around him or risk being dropped. My mind races, trying to fully grasp what’s happening to me as he carries me to a room just off my bedroom. Breakfast is laid out on the table, an array of pastries and meats that fill my senses.
Settling in a chair, Daddy shifts me so I’m sitting sideways on his lap, my mouth watering as I take in the delicious buffet in front of us. “What would you like, little one? I had Chef Martine make all your favorites, though now I can see I may have gone a bit overboard,” he adds with a chuckle.
“How do you know what my favorites are?”
“I’ve been watching you for some time.” There’s a long pause, as if he’s waiting for something, but when I simply sit and stare at the table, he reaches around me to pull a platter of giant cinnamon rolls closer to us. “You don’t indulge your sweet tooth nearly enough, but we’ll change that. Half a cinnamon roll and some bacon, then I have a special treat for you, sent over just this morning from your Auntie Cat.”
“I don’t have an Auntie Cat.” I have an Aunt Susie, my mother’s sister, but that’s it.
“Of course you do, little one. You just haven’t met her yet. I imagine she’ll find a reason to come by today so she can be the first to meet you, just like she’s done with the other girls.”
“Other girls?” I’m not the only one? Where are the others? For reasons I can’t quite explain, the thought of another woman being part of this… whatever this situation is I’ve found myself in nearly shatters me. What hope do I have of escaping if I can’t even rely on another woman for help?
“Yes.” With his arms around me, Daddy cuts the cinnamon bun in half, placing one half on a separate plate, and then he adds three strips of crispy bacon to each dish. I watch, caught somewhere between horror and fascination as he cuts a bite of cinnamon roll off and holds it up to my lips.
Years of controlling every morsel that enters my mouth so I can keep my weight within the “acceptable” limits for a ballerina make it difficult to accept the food he offers.
But not only am I determined to do everything in my power to avoid upsetting him again, it also occurs to me that I may need to build up my strength as much as possible while I’m trapped here. The last thing I want is to have an opportunity to escape but find myself too weakened to do so because I refused to eat.
With that thought in mind, I obediently part my lips, and a low moan slips from my lips as flavor explodes in my mouth.
“Good girl,” Daddy murmurs, and a second later the vibrations against my pussy, the ones I’ve almost managed to forget about, increase. Pleasure floods my system, not enough to give me the release I want, but more than enough to have me squirming on his lap.
“Poor little doll.” His voice drips with sweetness, too much to be sincere. He’s mocking me, mocking my distress, and still all I want is more of the pleasure he’s forcing on me. “Would you like Daddy to make you come now?”
It’s a test. Why else would he be asking me exactly the same question he asked when I was in the tub? And if I fail this test, god only knows what other torments he might have in store for me.
“Y-yes, Daddy,” I manage to force out past the tightness in my throat. It’s both lie and truth, because as much as I want the relief, part of me is already recoiling at the thought of this man giving me an orgasm.
“Then you’ll need to be on your best behavior today, won’t you, little doll?”
With that, the buzzing returns to a low hum, keeping me on edge without pushing me any closer to it.
And I can’t decide if I want to weep just because I’ve been denied… or because this is yet another reminder of how firmly this monster I call Daddy has me trapped beneath his thumb.