Chapter 9
TABITHA
No, no, no, no.
This is not happening. I am not going to be forced to pee myself.
But even as my brain goes into denial overdrive, the pressure on my bladder increases, and panic digs its claws into my lungs, once more depriving me of air.
He’s actually going to do it. He’s going to force me to pee in a diaper. While I’m sitting on his lap.
“Relax for me, little one,” Daddy murmurs, his voice soft and soothing like he’s talking me through something completely mundane and not convincing me to pee myself.
“I don’t wanna use my diaper!” The words rip from me on an anguished wail, but my distress doesn’t seem to move the man keeping me hostage on his lap. If anything, he presses harder on my abdomen, and I realize with growing horror I may not be able to stop the inevitable.
Growing more desperate with each passing second, I squeeze my legs together as best I’m able with the thick cotton between my thighs.
“I know, little one.” He almost sounds sympathetic, but there’s a glee beneath his words that gives him away. “But you’re going to. Because you’re Daddy’s good little girl and you want to make Daddy proud of you. Don’t you, baby?”
No! No, I don’t!
The words lodge in my throat, though I’m not sure if it’s because I’m too scared to lie… or too scared to tell him the humiliating truth. That I do, desperately, want to make him proud of me.
Either way, I can’t force them free. When I open my mouth to protest, all that comes out is a strangled gasp as I try to speak and breathe at the same time.
“Fuck.” His muttered curse is harsh, and for a moment his anger feels like it might smother me.
But then he moves his hand from my bladder to my chest, like he did back at the hotel, and he pushes down on my heart. Dark eyes lock with mine, stern and unyielding.
“Breathe with me, baby. Just like before. In through your nose”—he inhales deeply to demonstrate and I struggle to mimic him as best I can—“and hold it. One. Two. Three. Four. Now out through your mouth. Good girl.”
The talons lodged in my chest loosen at his praise, and with every breath he walks me through. Little by little, I can fill my lungs with more oxygen, until at last I can breathe normally.
“There we go,” he murmurs, rubbing gently at the spot over my heart he’d been pressing on. “My good girl. You did such a good job, following Daddy’s instructions.”
Shame and pride both well in my chest at his words. “I don’t think good girls have panic attacks every ten seconds.”
Anger flashes in his eyes, dark and menacing, a moment before his hand slides up to wrap around my throat.
Not hard enough to cut off my air supply, but with enough pressure to make it clear he could if he wanted to.
I freeze under his hand, terror gripping me as I stare up into the burning brown of his eyes.
“Daddy decides if you've been a good girl or not. And do good girls argue with their Daddies, Tabitha Grace?”
“N-no, Daddy,” I manage to gasp out.
“No, they do not.” The hand around my throat tightens. “The next time you want to contradict me, I suggest you think twice.”
Or what? The retort burns on my tongue, but I don’t give voice to it, no matter how desperately I want to. At the end of the day, I am actually a good girl, always doing as I’m told, even when I hate myself for it.
“Yes, Daddy,” I answer instead, the words bitter and acrid on my tongue.
I’m rewarded for my obsequiousness with another of those smug freaking smiles and the loosening of his hand. “See? You are my very good girl. Are you going to keep being my good girl and use your diaper, little one?”
I don’t want to. God knows the last thing I want to do is wet myself at all, but especially in front of him and pretty blonde Kerry who is no doubt lurking about, waiting to witness my humiliation.
But when he presses on my bladder again, I already know I won’t be able to resist him. The panic attack drained what little fight I had in me, and I’m too tired to try and dig up any more.
So I close my eyes, letting my head fall onto his shoulder with a whimper as I will my muscles to relax.
It takes longer than I expect it to, perhaps because my subconscious is fighting the battle I don’t have the energy for, but eventually I feel my bladder release and a wet warmth spreading over the cotton covering my mound.
“Such a good Little girl you are,” Daddy murmurs, pressing a kiss to my hair before rising from the seat with me still cradled in his arms. He carries me to a whole other room—I didn’t even know planes had rooms—which is set up like a child’s nursery.
Unlike a standard nursery, however, all of the furniture here is more than large enough to accommodate me. A fact that is confirmed when Daddy lays me down on a springy mattress atop a tall table.
As he peels the soaked cotton from me, a smile curves his lips.
“I had planned on making you wait until we got home for your pleasure. But you were such a good girl, wetting your diaper for Daddy.” He pulls a wet wipe free from a package on the table and rubs it over my pussy, strumming his thumb over my clit in the process.
A shock of pleasure courses through my veins, surprising a gasp from me as I arch up on the table.
“And I think my very good girl deserves a reward. Don’t you, little firecracker? ”
Somehow, admitting I want him to touch me fills me with even more shame than peeing in a diaper did. I want to refuse him, to deny him the pleasure of humiliating me even further than he already has.
But with every deliberate, too-light touch of his finger to my clit, desperation wells inside me, until it finally smothers even that flicker of defiance.
“Daddy asked you a question, little girl.” Leaning over me so we’re nearly nose to nose, he drops his voice to a low growl. “Do you want Daddy to make you come? Or would you rather spend the rest of the flight being brought to the edge of release over and over with no relief in sight?”
If my own needs hadn’t already snuffed out my desire to fight him, those words definitely would have done the trick. “Yes, Daddy,” I whisper, my voice thick with tears of frustration, humiliation, and other emotions I can’t name.
His finger slides inside me, stoking the fires of my need as his smile widens. “You’re going to need to use your big girl words, baby. Tell Daddy exactly what you want.”
Oh, god. Not this again. It’s not enough for him to so thoroughly debase me, he needs to once again make me complicit in my own shameful corruption?
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, not out of any act of defiance, but out of sheer horror. I can’t possibly say the words he’s demanding of me.
But I already know I will. I’ve done it once, proving even my own dread isn’t strong enough to resist the need he’s forcing on me with such insistence.
And sure enough, every movement of his finger inside me, every touch of his thumb against my swollen clit breaks down my resistance. Until, at last, he rips the words from me on a sob.
“I want to come! Please, Daddy, please let me come!”
“That’s my good girl,” he growls, the sound sending shockwaves of need rippling through my quivering body. “Come for Daddy, little firecracker. Let me hear you scream for me.”
Like the good girl I am, I do exactly that, the echoes of my pleasure bouncing off the walls as something inside me snaps and molten hot lava pours through my veins.
“My good, sweet little baby. Daddy’s so proud of you.
” Pulling his fingers from me, he lifts them to his lips, his gaze never leaving my face as he sucks my juices from his skin.
I watch, my heart still threatening to beat straight out of my chest, as he licks himself clean with a soft hum of pleasure.
“Let’s get a fresh diaper on you and Daddy will snuggle you until we’re ready to land. ”
I don’t bother to protest as he wraps me in fresh, soft cotton and lifts me into his arms. And when he sits again, cradling me on his lap, I let my eyes close, let myself drift on this sea of contentment as I do my best to try and pretend I’m not the world’s biggest coward.
Colt
Tabitha sleeps the rest of the plane ride and most of the car ride back to our cabin. And though I hate to disturb her, I know for a fact that the second we step through the front door of her new home we’ll be surrounded by noise and chaos and demands.
“Time to wake up, little one,” I murmur as I gently shake her shoulder.
Her adorable nose crinkles up, and she burrows deeper into my embrace with a soft whine of protest.
Fucking hell, she is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
But as tempting as it is to simply let her sleep, I don’t want the shock of meeting my loud, boisterous family to overwhelm her, so I need her to wake up now so she has some time to brace herself for what’s coming.
“Tabby. You need to wake up, baby.”
“Don’ wanna.”
I can’t help but chuckle at how sulky she sounds. Exactly like a child being roused from a nap before she’s ready. “Too bad, little one. Be a good girl and sit up for Daddy.”
She doesn’t immediately comply, which I’ll admit surprises me a bit.
From everything I’ve seen from her this morning, she is desperate to be a good girl, to stay out of trouble.
Even her acts of defiance were, I’ve come to realize, driven more by fear of speaking up for herself than a desire to actually disobey me.
Perhaps she’s getting used to me, or perhaps she’s just too sleepy to realize she’s being defiant. Either way, the end result is the same and she keeps her eyes firmly shut.
“Tabitha Grace.” I put an extra bit of steel behind my words. “If you don’t listen to Daddy and wake up, I’m going to have to get mean.”
Still nothing. A spanking would wake her up, but the backseat of the car we’re in isn’t really spacious enough to put her over my knee.
There are plenty of other ways to wake a sleepy Little girl, however.
“Last chance,” I tell her, letting my voice take on a sing-song tone. When she remains stubbornly silent, I heave a deep sigh as I shift her on my lap. “All right. Time for Daddy to get mean.”
Shocked squeals fill the car as I dig my fingertips into her sides. Tabby comes alive on my lap, kicking and wriggling as she tries to escape my fingers.
“Daddy, no!” Her words are breathless from her shrieks of laughter. “Stop, stop, I’m awake, I’m awake!”
“I think we need to be extra sure,” I say with a laugh of my own as I double down, tickling her even harder.
“Daddy! Stop! I can’t breathe!”
Taking pity on my babygirl, I let my fingers go still. “Are you sure you’re awake, little firecracker?”
Chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths, she glares at me. “Very sure!”
“Good.” Helping her to sit up, I point out the window as the car turns onto a long, winding driveway. “Because we’re home.”