Chapter 6
six
LOGAN
I’ve never seen Emily’s eyes go as round as they do when I open the door and flick on the lights, revealing Blunts’ newest dungeon.
“Daddy,” she breathes.
She’s seen it in several stages of construction but she hasn’t seen it since the painters left and Brenna got started.
I haven’t always been Bren’s biggest fan, and I’m still against Emily getting a tattoo but I have to admit what Bren’s done with the Nursery is enough to fulfill any little’s dreams and bring a happy tear to any daddy’s eye.
“Is everything dry?” Emily asks. “Some of it is still shiny like it’s wet.”
“Bren told me it was ready to go. I think the shine is just whatever she sealed the paint with.”
Emily slowly gravitates to the central, and most eye-catching, feature of the Nursery.
It’s a huge tree, growing out of the middle of the floor, the twisting, gnarled trunk spiraling up and through the ceiling.
I had to get the architect who did Max’s loft in to help with the structural supports and permitting; she created a thing of wonder.
The ceiling has a fifteen-foot, clear plexiglass circle in it, so you can see up into the upper floor of the Nursery, where the tree branches create a canopy for the Tree House that forms the upper floor.
Brenna’s painted the tree trunk. Lines of mushrooms with caps in sunset colors march up the wood.
A smiling face with black button eyes peeks out from under each mushroom cup.
Winding between the mushrooms are swirls of dancing fairies, their diaphanous wings glittering.
A clutch of baby, fairy dragons peep out of a hollowed bole.
Emily drifts to the dragons and strokes their noses. When she turns to me, her eyes are glittering brighter than any of the fairy wings. “Are they emerald dragons . . .?”
“For Laurel? Of course they are. I didn’t forget, baby doll.”
She rushes to me and I fold her into my chest. “You like it?” I ask.
“I love it. So much, Daddy. Everything’s so beautiful. It’s like my dreams.”
I kiss her on the forehead as I look around. I don’t usually bother patting myself on the back. If I’ve done something right, I allow myself a moment to bask and then move on to the next thing.
But with the Nursery, I can pat myself on the back.
I listened carefully not just to Emily’s fantasies but to what many of our little friends wanted.
I incorporated as much as I could. More than was practical, according to the architect.
She had to design a retrospective structural support for the kitchen and cellar below the wet play side of the room, where the tree, fish tank, water table, and sand box add so much weight to the room that the design exceeded the building’s load-bearing capacities.
But she did a damn fine job, and so did I.
Once Emily finishes her happy cry, I walk around the room with her.
Brenna’s murals pull the three separate play areas together.
The waves framing the jutting corner structure—which can be made into a pirate ship or castle just by spinning the center-mounted “planks”—lead to the clouds butterflies, and steampunk dirigible of the reading and napping corner, with its adult cradle.
The clouds roll away from the corner toward the wet play area, turning into a rainbow bridge that unicorns and pegasi dance across, framing the two tables for coloring and artwork.
The last unicorn has a fish tail, leading to the underwater mural with curious tropical fish, laughing dolphins, and mermaids that peek around the actual coral reef tank and tactile discovery wall, wet play corner, and sand box.
I show her some of the hidden features of the room: the bins of dress-up clothes concealed as wooden casks on the pirate ship; the “cannon” that converts into a spanking bench; the huge cupboard between the pirate ship and napping corner that opens into a changing table and curtained-off cage beneath; the built-in bookcases that Twitch has stocked with everything from Beatrix Potter to Cynnie’s bumblebee books; the rolling carts of art supplies.
Emily touches everything with light fingers, her eyes shining.
“Daddy, can we go upstairs?” she asks, peering up through the cut-out into the second floor of the Nursery.
“That’s a space for bigger girls. Wouldn’t you like to be very little tonight?”
She glances at the cradle and I see the longing in her eyes. Oh, baby doll, try it. Show me that very little soul that keeps trying to break free. I sidle in that direction and pull out something I’ve been keeping in reserve for this occasion.
A pacifier with her name on it, edged in pink rhinestones.
She swallows and edges toward me. “Daddy? Is that for me?”
“It is. Would you like a spanking on the table here?” I open the diapering cabinet. “And then I could rock you with a hot bottom?”
Her breath catches. “I could see upstairs tomorrow.”
“You could,” I agree.
She nods.
I undress her reverently. If there was a time when I thought Emily was anything less than the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, it’s long past. Every curve, freckle, dimple, and fold of her body has become the table at which I feast, the altar at which I worship.
“I adore you, baby doll,” I tell her, as I kneel to unlace her boots.
Would my friend Sean, who pokes his head into the Nursery as I’m easing off the first boot, think I’m submitting to Emily, given our relative positions?
Maybe. If he does, Sean’s too distracted by the wonder of the Nursery, as he leads his submissive in, to comment. Moon trots straight to the pirate ship.
Emily places a soft hand on my shoulder to steady herself as I take off the second boot. “I adore you, too, Daddy,” she whispers.
“Look around,” I say to her. “This is for you. This is because of you. Look at all the magic you’ve brought to my life, little wonder.”
She glances around, then back at me, and smiles tremulously. I flick my fingers across her cheek to catch a tear that spills.
“Good tears?”
She nods. “The best tears.”
I unzip and slip off the dress she’s worn and the black lace thigh-highs underneath.
When she’s standing in just a black lace bralette and tiny knickers that make her skin glow like marble, I say, “Put your hands on my shoulders. I’m going to pick you up.
That’s the last time you stand on your feet until we leave. My baby girl crawls for Daddy tonight.”
Her eyes are so huge and round, they encompass my world. “Yes, Daddy.”
I lift her onto the changing table. It has a thick pad, much thicker than on a child’s changing table.
More like a mattress. It’s sized for an adult and Emmy can stretch out on it.
It’s at the perfect fucking height. There are several shallow drawers built into the walls on either side, where the supplies are kept.
I open one and take out a cloth diaper and a pair of diaper pins.
I’ve read about diapering in every parenting book and online guide I could find since finding out about Olivia.
Reading doesn’t prepare me for the reality of it.
The warmth of Emily’s soft curves as I draw her knickers off and run my fingertips reverently over her hips.
The weight of her legs as I lift them over my shoulders.
The sweet musk that rises to me as her thighs part naturally.
“I’m going to put a diaper on you, my angel baby.
” A spark kindles in her eyes. She’s known this was coming.
We’ve talked about it. She’s seen the cloth diaper and pins I’ve set next to her.
But the reality of it just hit her. And filled her with heat.
“You don’t have to use the diaper. But if you do, Daddy will clean it up.
Just like Daddy cleans up all his little girl’s messes. ”
She nods, her shining eyes never leaving mine.
“Daddy’s going to give you a warm bottom to start but I can think of another use for these.” I pick up one of the diaper pins. “If I wanted to see a ladder of pins up your sides, would that be too much pain for tonight?”
“No, Daddy, it wouldn’t be too much pain,” she breathes.
“That’s my wonderful girl. I want you to feel free to be as little as you’d like during this scene. If that means you can’t talk, that’s good with me. If you feel like baby talking, that’s good with me. This Nursery is a safe space for you, Emmy. You can be whatever you want here.”
Her lower lip trembles. “As little as I’d like?”
I stroke my hands up and down her legs. “Yes, little love. As little as feels right to you.”
She nods. “You’ll be my daddy no matter what?”
“Emmy, baby, nothing could stop me from being your daddy now. Nothing you could do. Nothing you don’t do. If you told me tomorrow you don’t want to be my little girl anymore, I would still always be your daddy in my heart. That will never change for me.”
A crystal tear wells, spills, and runs down her temple before I catch it on my thumb and tip it to her lips to lick off.
“My forever-Daddy?”
“Yes, baby. Your forever-Daddy.”
“My forever-Daddy who gives me a hot bottom?”
I flick her curved lips with my thumb. “Little mischief. Grab your ankles.”
She does. I adjust her position until her bottom’s right at the edge of the pad and I have clear access to every part of her sweet, curved ass.
As I’m rubbing to warm up her skin, I hear a sharp smack from my right.
While continuing to circle my hands over Emily’s deliciously soft curves, I look over my shoulder at the source of the sound.
Sean’s flipped over the ship/castle’s barrel and has Moon bent over the padded bench.
He’s ahead of me. His handprint is already blooming on Moon’s golden cheek.
I wink at him before I apply my hand to my own subbie’s bottom.