Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
It’s early afternoon when we get home, and Daddy rushes around to get my noon bottle ready, leaving me sitting in the playpen. I’m still wearing the harness. It’s like a safety net. I’m not sure I want him to take it off.
Eventually, though, he carries me to my nursery, removes the harness, and settles in the rocking chair to feed me. I know this bottle is going to force me to sleep, and I don’t care. It’s been a busy morning and I’m tired.
The next thing I know, I’m waking up in my crib. I don’t even remember finishing the bottle. At first, I panic a little, but when I start to squirm and try to lift my arms, I find my wrists once again cuffed to the sides of the crib.
This calms me. It’s irrational. It’s totally backward. Most people would react the opposite if they woke up and found themselves restrained, especially if they didn’t even remember it happening.
Not me. I seem to have become a bondage addict.
The more restricted I find myself, the calmer I feel.
I relax my body, let my knees fall wider, and take several deep breaths.
I’m loved. Daddy is not only taking care of everything, but he’s removed my choice entirely so I must obey him.
It’s so much easier to be obedient when no other option exists.
Daddy comes in several minutes later. I don’t even call out to him. I just wait for him to check on me in the monitor. He’s smiling as he takes care of me, and then he sets me on my feet and pats my bottom. “Would you like to play in the backyard for a while, baby girl?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I rush that direction, getting used to the bulk between my legs.
Daddy sits on the porch working on his laptop while I play. At one point, he steps inside for a moment and returns holding a package. Something that must have been delivered. He sets it on the table next to his computer and keeps working.
When I grow bored, I wander over and climb up to sit on the chair next to his.
He smiles at me. “Done playing?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I’m content to sit here and watch him. I love watching him. He’s so confident and imposing when he’s working. His brow furrows, but not from stress or anger, just concentration. It’s hot as hell.
He sits back after a few minutes and meets my gaze. “Tomorrow we start your summer schedule. I’ve got a strict routine planned. I have to start working from the home office, and you’ll sit in there with me and work on your research for three hours in the morning and three hours in the afternoon.”
I groan.
He chuckles. “No arguments. If you do your work every day like that, you’ll finish your thesis by the end of the summer and no longer have it weighing over you.”
I’d imagined it taking far longer than three months to finish. After all, I’ve been slacking, and I’m behind on my timeline, but if he enforces that kind of work ethic, I’ll definitely finish it before the end of the summer. “Yes, Daddy.”
He reaches for the small package and opens it to pull out a pink padlock. He hands it to me, his eyes dancing.
I take it from him. It’s kind of heavy, like the sort of thing someone might use to lock a bicycle.
“What’s it for, Daddy?” I’m more than a little curious.
The fact that it’s pink means it has something to do with me.
The fact that it’s a lock makes me squirm with excitement.
I hope it’s for my person somehow and not for my stroller.
He winks. “It’s a surprise. You’ll find out tomorrow.”
I giggle, imagining him locking me to my desk chair or something. I can’t wait to find out what it’s intended use is. It’s all I can do to keep from begging him to tell me now.
The rest of the day is spent relaxing. I drink my afternoon bottle, Daddy has dinner, and we watch another movie. Then it’s time for my bath and my nighttime bottle. I go to sleep warm and content in my footed jammies, my wrists strapped to the siderails of my crib, a smile on my lips.