Chapter 9
brAM
Furious hazel eyes meet mine in the mirror. The white bar jutting from her lips is covered in suds, and drool is sliding down her chin, turning her into a beautiful little mess.
I’ve never loved her more.
When I press on her bladder again, some of the fury fades, replaced by a silent plea I have no intention of heeding.
Now that Josie is back in my life, I’m going to claim her as my Little girl in every possible way.
And that includes forcing her to use her diaper, regardless of whether she wants to or not.
“You can do it, my sweet little bug,” I murmur in her ear as I massage the organ beneath my fingers. “Just relax and let Daddy take care of you.”
As if her body itself is determined to defy me, she stiffens at my touch, her muscles tightening rather than loosening.
Hmm. Perhaps I’m going about this the wrong way. In our previous life, there was one surefire way to get my babygirl to relax, and I doubt she’s really changed that much over the years.
Shifting my hold on her, I slide my left arm around her waist, anchoring her to me while my right hand moves beneath the waistband of her diaper.
In the mirror, I watch her eyes widen with shock.
But even as she wiggles against me, her cotton-covered bottom rubbing against my cock, I can see the need, the hunger in her eyes.
And because I can see it, so clearly, I keep my gaze locked with hers in the reflection as I slide my fingers through her sopping wet folds.
“Such a filthy little baby, aren’t you, Josie?
You like being Daddy’s naughty baby, walking around in a diaper full of Daddy’s cum, being forced to piss yourself in front of a mirror.
You’re so fucking wet, I’m not convinced you haven’t already used your diaper. ”
I know she hasn’t, of course, but my words have the desired effect.
Even as her eyes flash with renewed anger, her cunt clamps down on my fingers, so hard I nearly wince as her muscles squeeze me tight.
Using everything I learned about her all those years ago, I stroke that hidden spot inside her, and I’m rewarded with a flood of arousal coating my fingers.
“That’s my good girl,” I purr in her ear as I work her toward release. “Just let go and let Daddy make you feel good, baby.”
She tenses in my arms, trying so hard to fight me.
To fight herself, even as her hips roll against my hand, her body seeking the release her mind is rebelling against. As I work that sweet bundle of nerves inside her, I grind the heel of my hand against her clit, a combination I know she’s helpless against.
In our shared reflection, I can see the panic in her eyes as I drag her metaphorically kicking and screaming to the cliff’s edge of pleasure.
And shove her straight over.
She comes screaming and gagging around the soap, and when wetness coats my hand I know it’s not just her arousal flooding her diaper.
“Good fucking girl.” My voice is a low growl, thick with my own need as I work her toward a second orgasm as a reward.
“Daddy’s so proud of you, baby, for using your diaper like the good Little girl you are.
My perfect, filthy little baby. Come for Daddy again, sweet little bug. ”
Tears stream down her flushed cheeks, mingling with snot and drool and soap suds as her eyes silently beg me to stop.
Or perhaps she’s begging for more. I’m not even sure she knows.
What I do know is that she is, right now, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
My beautiful, messy baby. Right where she belongs once again.
Josie
If I’ve ever been more humiliated in my entire life, I can’t think of a time. I also can’t think of a time I’ve ever been so completely wrung-out from pleasure, even twenty years ago when we were fucking like rabbits every chance we got. Bennett Kincaid was by far the best lay I’d ever had.
But Bram Thorne is another level altogether.
The muffled sound of water running reaches my ears, and I realize belatedly it only sounds muffled because my ears are literally ringing.
Daddy gently pries the soap from my lips, whispering words of praise as he helps me rinse my mouth clean.
The bitter taste lingers even after several rinses, and I wonder if I’ll ever be rid of it.
“All right, bug. Let’s get you upstairs for a diaper change and a nap. You’ve had quite a day.”
For once, I don’t argue, because both those things sound like heaven. So I let him scoop me up in his arms, let my head drop to his shoulder as he carries me up the stairs to his bedroom.
To my nursery.
Daddy lays me out on a tall piece of furniture my muddled brain recognizes as a changing table. A thick strip of leather is pulled over my stomach, holding me in place as he pulls the soaked diaper from me and wipes my skin clean.
When I’m wrapped in a fresh diaper once more, he unstraps me and carries me to my crib. But when he tries to put me down, I cling to him, a low whine slipping from my lips.
“Josie. You need to rest, baby. You’ve had a really long day already.”
“No crib,” I manage to whimper, too exhausted to even be humiliated by my whining, needy tone.
“Babies sleep in their cribs, little bug. You’re much too Little to sleep in the big bed by yourself.”
I’ve been sleeping in a big girl bed for thirty-plus years, dumbass. The retort sits heavy on my tongue, but so does the lingering taste of soap, so I force the sarcastic response back. “No crib,” I repeat, more firmly if no less sulky this time.
Daddy sighs. “All right. But just this once. You’re going to have to get used to sleeping in your crib sooner rather than later, little bug.”
A smug sense of triumph fills my chest as he carries me to the bed. But instead of simply tucking me in and leaving me there, he climbs under the covers with me, his arm wrapped tight around my waist, anchoring me to him as he spoons me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my words slurred with the dragging exhaustion trying its best to pull me under.
“Like I said. Little girls can’t sleep in the big bed by themselves. It’s too dangerous.”
That sarcastic part of me rolls its eyes, but there’s another part of me, a part I haven’t heard from in a long time that simply sighs in satisfaction. It’s been too long, far too long since I had anyone to care for me this way.
And maybe it makes me weak. I know for a fact it makes me a fool. But I close my eyes anyway, and let the comfort of my Daddy’s arms rock me to sleep. And try not to think that I’m finally, after so many years, right where I belong.