Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Isabella
I wake from my nap to a feeling of weightlessness. And when my eyes open, fear grips me at the sight of the stairs rapidly approaching. With a whimper, I cling desperately to the first thing I can find to avoid falling to my death.
A familiar chuckle meets my ears. “It’s all right, little doll. Daddy’s got you.”
Daddy’s got you . Before, those words filled me with a sense of dread. Now I find comfort in them, and I’m able to relax in his arms as he carries me up the stairs.
That knowledge is almost as discomfiting as waking up mid-air, so I set it aside to be examined later as we enter my nursery. Daddy immediately heads for the bathroom, where he forces me to wet my diaper before stripping me naked and placing me in the steaming bath that looks as though it’s already been running for several minutes.
What’s going on? Usually I have my bath in the morning. I didn’t really think anything of missing it today, but now I can’t help but to think about it, and what it means that he’s bathing me so late in the afternoon.
“How does your pussy feel today, Isabella?”
The question jolts me out of the rabbit hole of questions my mind has wandered down, forcing my attention to the man kneeling beside the tub. “Um. It still hurts.”
It isn’t, actually. In fact, if it weren’t for how odd the cotton of my diaper felt against my hairless mound all day, I probably would have forgotten all about my waxing appointment yesterday. But instinct tells me that if he knows I’m all healed up, then something bad will be coming my way soon.
Daddy frowns, and presses on my shoulder, nudging me to lie back. “Let Daddy see. Open your legs, little doll.”
There’s nothing to see, but that doesn’t mean I can’t pretend it isn’t still sore. So I lie back against the tub, spreading my knees as far as they will go so he can inspect the “damage”.
“Hmm.” Sliding his hand into the water, he strokes his fingers gently over my lips, and I make a show of wincing at the contact. “There doesn’t seem to be any visible irritation. I’ll have to see if Luna or Anya are available to take a look. I wouldn’t want any harm coming to my little doll tonight.”
I watch in horror as he pulls his phone from his pocket with one hand, while the other keeps my knees firmly apart. “Lift your hips, little one. I want to make sure I can send them a clear picture.”
“Daddy, no! No pictures!”
“Isabella, stop fussing. Daddy needs to make sure there’s nothing wrong with your little pussy.”
“It’s fine! It’s fine!”
Lowering the phone, Daddy raises a brow in a look that makes my core tremble with fear. “Well, which is it, Isabella? Is it fine or are you too sore for Daddy to touch you?”
If he even thinks I’m lying, I’ll be punished. My brain races, trying to think of a way out. “I am still a little sore, Daddy. Not so bad you can’t touch me, though.”
There. Now I’m technically not a liar, which will hopefully be good enough for the man watching me with eagle eyes.
Those eyes that see far more than I’m comfortable with narrow slightly as he studies me. “Hmmm. I suppose the easiest thing to do would be to test exactly how sore you are.”
Fear and desire pound in my veins as I watch his hand slide down my thigh to my not-at-all-sore pussy. This time, I don’t wince at the gentle feathering of his fingers over my lips, but I do jolt a bit when he pushes those lips aside to gain entrance to my tight channel.
One finger slips inside me, drawing a gasp from me as pleasure flashes through me. My eyes flutter close as my head falls back against the built-in pillow on the tub, and my hips lift seemingly of their own accord, my body instinctively searching out the pleasure I know he can give me.
As he pushes a second finger into me, stretching me, his thumb unerringly finds my clit, and I’m lost to the waves of sensation he’s forcing on me. For what feels like hours I float, literally and figuratively, as he strokes my bare pussy with those clever, clever fingers. Every touch drives me closer to the edge, until I’m standing with toes right on the cliff, ready to fly.
And just when I think he’s going to send me over, he pulls back. The pleasure fades, morphing into something closer to pain as my eyes fly open to stare up at his smug smile.
“Sore, perhaps, but certainly not too sore for what Daddy has in mind for you tonight, little doll. Let’s finish getting you ready for your big night.”
* * *
Gideon
My little doll is sulking. Adorably so, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout and her shoulders hunched forward as we finish her bath. And when I wrap her in a towel to lift her into my arms at the end, she huffs softly as she drops her head hard onto my shoulder.
You shouldn’t have lied to Daddy then, little one .
I was tempted to wash her mouth out with soap once I discovered her deceit. But I am a firm believer that the punishment should fit the crime, and since she lied about her pussy being sore, it felt fitting to leave it aching as a punishment. And judging by her petulant state, I chose her discipline well.
My amusement at her antics is pushed to its limit, however, when I try to put my little doll on her feet in the closet and she immediately collapses into a dramatic heap on the floor.
“Isabella. Stand up, please.”
“Babies can’t stand.”
It’s a fair enough point, and I have to swallow a laugh at her attempt to outwit me. But as my Little girl is about to learn, Daddies are always one step ahead.
“Oh, dear.” I’m sure the drama in my voice is over the top, but Isabella doesn’t seem to notice. Sighing heavily, I leave her on the floor for the time being as I make my way across the expansive closet to a large cabinet. “Well, if my Little one can’t stand on her own, I suppose we’ll have to get creative.”
From the corner of my eye, I watch her head jerk up at the word “creative”, wariness spreading across her features.
“What do you mean?”
Opening the cabinet, I pull a long metal pole attached to a sturdy base free and carry it over to her. Isabella eyes the contraption warily, and it’s all I can do not to burst into laughter at the expression on her face.
Attached to the top of the pole is a padded, horseshoe-shaped piece of metal, with a similar piece about halfway down the stand. With the pole in place, I bend down and pick my little doll up, allowing the towel to fall from her as I position her on the stand. Her armpits rest on top of the first padded bar, while the one in the middle wraps around her waist. The middle piece is far more flexible, and it takes only a few tugs to secure her in the stand.
Stepping back, I admire the picture she makes as Isabella looks down, confusion twisting her features as she tries to make sense of what’s been done to her.
After several long seconds, I take pity on her and explain. “It’s a doll stand, little one. Meant to keep dolls in place, usually after they’ve been dressed and put on display, but I figured it would work just as well to keep you upright while Daddy picks out your dress for dinner.”
I, of course, already know what she’ll be wearing. I had the piece made specifically for her weeks ago so I could be sure it would be ready on time. But already my little doll is fidgeting on her strand, trying to find a way to wiggle free, and I’m enjoying the show far too much to end it so soon.
The upper horseshoe puts her arms at too odd an angle for her to grab the middle bar and twist it free. It’s also too high for her to easily lift her arms over it. As she twists and turns in her bonds, her breasts jiggle, and my cock hardens at the sight of her pretty pink nipples bouncing with every futile movement.
Unfortunately for me, we really do need to get a move on so we don’t keep our guests waiting. Reaching around the doll stand, I give Isabella a hard swat to her bottom that settles her instantly. Her bottom lip puffs out in that same pout from earlier, and I can’t resist the urge to lean in and press a kiss to her sulky mouth.
“Are you ready to be a good little doll for me, Isabella?” I murmur against her lips. “Or do I need to put some more red in those bottom cheeks for you to listen?”
Eyes wide, she sucks in a sharp breath. “I’ll be good, Daddy.”
“That isn’t exactly what I asked. I asked if you’re going to be my good little doll. What do dolls do, while they’re waiting for their owners to dress them?”
Confusion flits across her face. “Um. Nothing?”
“Exactly. I want you to stand here, perfectly still, and wait for Daddy to get you ready for dinner with our family. Can you do that for me, little one?”
“Y-yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl. I’ll be right back with a diaper and your dress.”
Diapering her is much easier on the changing table, but dressing my little doll completely while she’s trapped in the stand has been a fantasy of mine even since before I met Isabella. And now, it’s finally a fantasy I’ll get to live out.
I grab a diaper from the bedroom and return to the closet. On her stand, Isabella remains perfectly still, her eyes focused on some spot above my head as I bend down to pull the diaper up between her legs, fastening it in place around her hips. Stepping back, I admire my work, pulling my phone out of my pocket for a few quick pictures.
If Isabella is bothered at all by the pictures, she doesn’t say. Doesn’t even react.
Perfect.
With her diaper in place, I move to the rack at the end of the closet, the section I’ve set aside for her “special occasion” dresses. While all of her outfits are full of tulle and ruffles, these are even more so. Layers and layers of ruffles and lace puff out from the waist, with full sleeves in the same material at the top.
The one I choose for tonight is a pale-green silk, with white lace and tulle accents. It’s a perfect replica of an actual doll’s dress I’ve kept a picture of in my phone for years. Solene outdid herself with this one.
Back at the stand, I lift one of Isabella’s arms and work it through the sleeve, followed by her other arm and then her head through the center hole. I have to pull the middle bar away from her stomach in order to pull the dress down, but once I’ve arranged the layers of material exactly to my liking, I wrap the metal bar around her waist once again.
She really does look like a living, breathing doll, put on display for my enjoyment. I may have to see about having the stand brought down to my office so I can display her there during the day. Not the entire day, of course. Little girls need time to play and nap. But a few stretches here and there won’t hurt her.
Frilly socks and a pair of white Mary Janes complete my little doll’s transformation, and I give myself a few minutes to admire how perfect she looks before snapping a few final pictures.
“All right, little doll. Time for dinner. Our family is eager to welcome you into the fold.”