Gripping my ankles in one hand, he raises them straight up in the air, lifting my bottom from the towel as he slides something soft and fluffy beneath me. “While you’re wearing your diaper. The powder isn’tnecessary, of course, and my brothers don’t use it very often at all. But I’m rather fond of the scent, so I made it a point to have some sent over in your new diaper bag.”
“But I don’t wear diapers! I’m not a baby!”
“Oh, but you absolutely are, little Tabby.” He lowers my legs again, a smile curving his lips as he wraps the cotton around my hips. “You are Daddy’s very itty-bitty baby. Which means diapers and bottles and highchairs. I had considered waitinguntil we got home to begin your… I supposetransformationis the right word, though it sounds rather dramatic. But anyway, your Uncle Axel can tell you that it’s in everyone’s best interest for a Daddy to begin as he means to go on.”
Tears prick my eyes, and I can barely see the gorgeous, fluffy dress as he works it over my head. “But I don’twannabe a baby,” I whisper.
“I know it probably feels very strange right now, but you’ll get used to it.” Moving me as if I weigh no more than a rag doll, he sits me up on the bed and finishes dressing me. “There. All set for our trip to Utopia.”
“Towhere?”
“Utopia,” he repeats, his smile widening. “Since you didn’t have anyreasonablesuggestions for breakfast, I thought we could head to my friend Baze’s hotel for some food and to let you play a bit before we have to catch our flight.”
Pulling a pair of white Mary Janes and frilly white socks from the Bag O’ Horrors, he kneels in front of me and grabs a foot. “Maybe I don’t wanna play.”
I’m pouting. Likereallypouting, my bottom lip pushed out so far you could land a plane on it. Which probably isn’t doing anything for my “I’m not a baby” argument, but I don’t really care. This is ridiculous. It’s one thing to call this strange man Daddy and let him bathe me in the privacy of his hotel room—the memory ofthatis enough to have my cheeks flushing with remembered pleasure and humiliation—but going out in public is another issue altogether.
“You don’t have to play, but I think you’d probably have a lot of fun if you did.” He moves to my other foot and slips a sock on. “There are also plenty of places to go shopping if you’d prefer to do that.”
“Shopping?” I’d done a little window shopping before I hit the casino last night, but even though I’d told myself I wouldn’tworry about money until I got back home, I couldn’t quite convince myself to gotoowild.
But if he wants to try and buy my affection, maybe I should let him. Maybe I deserve to let him spoil me after everything he’s put me through today.
And everything that’s still yet to come.
With me dressed, he rises to his feet again and points at me. “You sit right there while Daddy changes out of these wet clothes.”
I could run. But if I did, where would I go? I have no idea where I am or how to escape.
So I sit and I nod obediently, ignoring the voice in the back of my head screaming at me to at leasttry. “Yes, Daddy.”
A bright smile stretches across his face. “Good girl.” Turning away, he moves to the closet and pulls out a fresh suit. I watch as he pops open the buttons of the white shirt currently plastered to his chest. Saliva pools in my mouth as he exposes the etched lines of his chest and stomach. A smattering of dark hair covers his torso, and though I’ve never found body hair particularly sexy, my fingers practically itch with the need to touch him, to feel those coarse hairs beneath my palms.
I glance up and catch him smirking at me as he shrugs out of his shirt and reaches for the button of his pants. Heat blooms in my cheeks and I drop my gaze to the floor. But I can’t resist peeking up at him, and the fire in my cheeks burns even hotter at the giant bulge in his boxer shorts.
“As I was saying.” His amused voice jerks my attention up to his ridiculously handsome face. “There are plenty of places to go shopping in Utopia as well as the rest of the strip. But only good girls get spoiled with presents. Naughty girls get their diapers pulled down and their bare bottoms spanked. Understood?”
“You can’t spank me in public!”
Pausing in the act of buttoning his shirt, he pins me with a serious look. “I can, and will spank you in public if I think you need it. Keep that in mind if you want to be naughty.”
I’m not naughty. I’m never naughty. But something about the threat has rebellion rising in my chest, threatening to break free. “You can’t do that. You’ll get arrested.”
Fully dressed once more, he scoops me up in his arms and carries me over to a metal door I hadn’t noticed before. An elevator, right in his room. “Maybe. But my family has plenty of money to… grease the wheels, as they say. Another thing you should keep in mind if you decide you want to try and make a fuss or draw any attention our way in some misguided escape attempt. Even if you managed to get me arrested, I can promise you it wouldn’t stick, and that any time I spent in a jail cell would be used to construct the perfect punishments for my naughty, naughty girl.”
Whatever rebellion I’d been feeling fades. “Punishments? Like more than just a spanking?”
“Mmhmm. Like, perhaps a spanking, and then getting your pretty bottom fucked raw, and then maybe being forced to wear a pacifier all day in public as a reminder that you are only a very Little girl. Just to start.”
All of that sounds positivelyhorrible.
So why is my pussy clenching like he’s just said something really sexy?
I don’t have much time to contemplate my reaction before he ushers me into the back of a sleek black SUV. The driver nods once, and then glides into traffic.
Turning my head, I pretend to watch the Vegas scenery out the window as we drive. But in reality, I’m not seeing the gorgeous architecture or the colorful people.
I’m only seeing my freedom, slipping further and further away with every passing block.
