Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
A week goes by. Daddy and I settle into a new routine. I sometimes balk when he introduces me to new things because I’m always shocked at first. But he also wins every time.
It’s not like I have options. He doesn’t ask me if I want to sit in a playpen in his office while he works. He simply puts me in there. He doesn’t consult with me when he makes decisions. My acquiescence is expected.
Yes, he tests me. He likes to push my boundaries. And then discipline me when I don’t quickly comply.
It’s becoming a habit with us. He shocks me, I rebel, he spanks me. Or takes away my privileges, leaving me bored. Or puts that stupid root in my bottom.
He doesn’t get angry. He simply smirks when I’m disagreeable and disciplines me without a word. I’m so used to it that I automatically lash out every time he adds another level of control to my life.
I know he won’t ever injure me. Never. He won’t do anything that permanently alters my skin. No spanking is so hard that I end up with open wounds, for example.
Daddy adores me. I often catch him staring at me instead of working.
He likes to watch me when I’m reading or playing.
His face gets very soft, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips.
Sometimes, I see him out of my peripheral vision and don’t let on that I’m aware.
It makes me warm and tingly. He probably knows because I can’t hide my arousal.
What he hasn’t permitted me to do is walk.
I’m always on my hands and knees. He lets me have clothes occasionally, especially when he’s working.
Yesterday, he returned to full-time, so today is my second day in the playpen.
I wouldn’t say the “clothes” he puts on me are the sort of garments people wear out of the house.
They aren’t even items anyone would don at home. Especially not adults.
Daddy dresses me in warm footed pajamas. The sort of thing babies wear. But this doesn’t surprise me, since he also keeps me diapered, bottle feeds me, and has me almost addicted to my pacifier.
The jammies are warm and comfortable, so I don’t complain.
But the walking… This is a topic I’m going to push him on. Surely I will eventually wear him down. I must because I can’t stand the idea of crawling for the rest of my life. It’s degrading and makes me feel like the pet he insists I am.
Another issue is the diapers. They are so thick that my legs are always spread wide.
He obviously enjoys the bulk between my thighs and the way I’m forced to sort of waddle when I crawl.
I really need more reasonable diapers to walk on two feet.
Or permission to use a toilet… But that’s not my first concern.
I’m also curious about eating. Daddy mentioned dry food that some of my friends have been allowed to eat, but so far, all I’ve had are bottles. Even though I abhor the fact that he referred to the food as kibble, I’m too eager to eat something crunchy to argue semantics.
I’m feeling ornery and feisty this morning, and I know it’s early. Daddy doesn’t have to get to work for a while. So I decide to push his buttons.
As soon as he sets me in the playpen, he makes his usual commands. “No standing, Zoey. I want your bottom on the floor at all times. Understood?”
I’m expecting this lecture, and instead of readily agreeing, I whine. “Daddy, I’m perfectly capable of walking. I’ve been walking most of my life. Your gravity isn’t bothering me anymore. You don’t have to worry about me falling.”
I don’t like the stern look on his face that’s incongruent with his words. “Okay, fine, you can stand.” He lifts me out of the playpen and carries me to the corner of the room.
I’m concerned when he sets me on my feet and proceeds to unzip my jammies.
In seconds, he has them off me, and he removes my diaper next.
Without saying another word, he turns me to face the corner.
His lips come to my ear. “Since you want to stand, you can do so here until I say otherwise. Nose to the wall.”
My body quivers at this new twist. I’m cold, and now I’m being punished in a way I hadn’t expected.
He presses my forehead to the corner with a hand on the back of my neck and nudges my foot with his shoe. “Spread your legs wider, naughty girl.”
I shuffle my feet apart, but it’s not enough.
“More, Zoey. Don’t test me further. I want you to feel the cold air on your pussy while you think about who is in charge.”
Gritting my teeth, I force myself not to respond. I’m always chilled when I’m naked. He knows it. My body temperature isn’t high enough to tolerate how cold he keeps his apartment. Goosebumps rise all over my skin, and my nipples are hard points.
Don’t cry.
I can feel his gaze on me. He doesn’t tolerate backtalk, so that’s out of the question. He’s obviously never going to let me argue my case, which infuriates me.
It’s not fair. I’m not a pet. I’m a human. I should be permitted to walk. It’s demeaning to force me to remain on all fours.
Remaining silent, I ponder my options. They are few. This is the harshest punishment he has doled out. And it becomes more unbearable with each passing minute. My legs are tired from not being used. My muscles strain from the gravitational force I’m still not fully accustomed to.
I’m freezing.
I’m shaking.
I’m angry.
Mostly I’m angry with myself for pushing his buttons. I knew something like this was a possibility.
Just when I think I might actually collapse, he speaks from behind me. He’s closer than I expected. I hadn’t realized where he was. “You may turn around, naughty girl.”
I sniffle as I slowly right myself from leaning into the corner. He’s sitting in his rolling desk chair, only a few feet from me, which puts him at eye level.
He’s calm and collected, as always. Even when I misbehave, he remains so. He holds out a hand. “Come, Little pet.”
I’m uncertain for a moment whether he intends for me to walk toward him or drop down and crawl. Because he’s holding his hand up high and gives a slight nod, I choose to take the few steps on my legs.
As soon as I’m within reach, he leans forward, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me between his thighs. He hugs me close, rubbing my back. “My Little pet is having a hard time accepting her new life.”
I sniffle again, trying not to cry harder.
He eases his grip and lifts me so I’m sitting on his thigh, my legs dangling between his. It’s so awkward because I’m completely naked.
Daddy tips my chin back, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “I’ve spoken to Yamal. He has records on all the other human pets who have been purchased. Guess how many of them are allowed to walk on two legs?”
I try to lower my eyes, but Daddy pinches my chin. Licking my lips, I mutter, “None?”
“That’s right. And very few are permitted to use a receptacle other than diapers to go potty.
There are good reasons for both. With regards to walking, it’s a very bad idea to set a precedent that gives a pet that much freedom.
Walking leads to running and skipping and climbing, and all manner of things that cause accidents.
I won’t have you doing anything dangerous.
You are not permitted to leave a room on your own.
And you’re definitely not ever going to have permission to climb onto furniture or reach for things I did not hand you.
“I may occasionally allow you to stand in order to bathe you in the shower or fix your hair while you’re between my knees, but as a means of getting from point A to point B—no.
End of discussion. Do not ask again. If I ever change my mind, it will be on my terms, not yours.
If you mention it again, I will strip you naked, and you can spend the day in your kennel on a pee pad. It won’t be pleasant.”
I wince. I’m aware Daddy has a kennel. He hasn’t forced me to enter it yet.
I’ve been worried such a day is coming. It’s a small cage next to his desk, where it ominously mocks me every time I look at it.
I would barely be able to sit upright in it.
And if I were to lie down, I would have to pull my knees up to my chest. The thought of sitting on a pee pad, covered in my own urine for any length of time, makes me think twice about misbehaving.
“As for diapers,” Daddy continues, “it’s simply not practical to allow pets to pee in a receptacle.
We’ve discussed this. I would have to stop working to take you to the bathroom.
It would require removing your clothes, holding you over the potty, and cleaning you up.
Another precedent Yamal has advised against. Again, one more word about using the toilet will land you in the kennel for the day. ”
I try not to cry. “Yes, Sir.”
He kisses me briefly on the lips. “The most important thing for you to understand, Little pet, is that you are my world. It pleases me to take care of you in every way. I prefer that you become completely dependent on me. That includes carrying you when we go out, feeding you, and changing you. I’m not willing to give up any of those.
Eventually, you’ll forget how it felt to walk on two legs and stop mourning the loss.
You’ll also give up trying to hold in your urine and become diaper-dependent.
Both of those are my goals. Try to accept that I will always be your caretaker, and you will always be my Little pet. ”
More tears slip down my cheeks, but Daddy wipes them away with the pads of his thumbs.
“I know you will be sad sometimes, Little pet, but I hope you will be happy far more often. I want to please you. And I will in every way I can that doesn’t compromise your safety or my desire to take care of your basic needs. ”
I lean into his chest and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’ll try, Daddy.” And I will. I mean it. I’m trying to see things his way. I want to please him because I like it when he praises me. And I really like it when he rewards me.
“I have a surprise for you, Little pet.”
I’m shocked that he would change to such a joyful tone after the morning we’ve had, but he turns and opens his desk drawer to lift something out. When he holds it up, I gasp.
He chuckles. “Do you know what this is, Zoey?”
I shake my head. I’m pretty sure I know exactly what it is, but I’m hoping I’m wrong.
“Yamal mentioned this when we saw him on that first day. It’s a glass dildo.
Daddy is going to put it in your cunt and strap it tight.
Your pussy will stretch around it all day, helping remind you who you belong to.
Hopefully, at the end of the day, you’ll be so horny, you’ll be ready to take Daddy’s cock. ”
I sit taller, trembling while I consider his words. I really want him inside my body. He’s been preparing me with his evil tongue for a week. I’m plenty stretched out. This glass dildo is going to drive me mad all day. Every time I move, I’ll be aware of it inside me.
And that’s precisely the point.