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FOURTEEN

“What did you just say?” Daddy asks.

“Fuck no,” I reply, not giving a hoot.

Daddy grips my arm, hauling me into his chest before turning to Ronal and Nora. “I’m sorry for her foul language. I’ll be taking Ella home and punishing her.”

“It’s okay,” Ronal replies.

“You can’t do this!” I raise my voice. “I just want to talk to my friend, and I should be able to do that!”

“Daddy told you that it was time to leave, which means it’s time to leave,” he says as he walks out of their house.

My fists land on his chest as he keeps walking down the road back to our house.

“But I don’t want to leave!” I whine. “I want to stay there and talk with Nora. I haven’t seen her in ages. I want to see her more and just forget about everything.”

“But it’s time for you to go down for a nap and eat something. You’ve been eating less and less every day, and I’m starting to worry about you more,” Daddy calmly says. “I know there is a lot to be stressed about, but we need to do our best to try and be calm. I don’t want you getting sick and Yamal having to come more often. It’s not good for your health.”

“I was doing so well there, though!” My fists hit his chest once again. “I was doing amazing, and you just had to pull me away from her.”

Daddy is now sitting on the couch in the living room. I don’t even remember him walking into the house, let alone sitting down.

“I know you were, but I need to keep you on a strict timeline for eating and getting your nap in. You could fall ill, and Daddy doesn’t want that,” he states. “Now, Daddy is going to put you over my lap, and we’re going to get this punishment out of the way before I feed you.”

“I don’t deserve the punishment!” I scream in his face, fully fed up with everything. “I don’t deserve any of this!”

Daddy calmly takes off my shirt and diaper, not saying a word.

“You can’t punish me. You should have known that I would want to spend more time with her, and yet you decided to take me away. Why did you insist on coming over there when you knew I would have to have naptime soon? Are you trying to be cruel to me?” I ask, blaming Daddy.

Daddy cups my face, forcing me to sit still and look at him. “We were supposed to go after your nap, but I thought that you might need it before to help calm you down. I didn’t think you were going to throw a temper tantrum after visiting with them. If I’d known, I would have waited until after your nap or not gone at all.”

“Meanie!” I scream. “You are just a mean Daddy, and I don’t want that!”

Daddy sighs. “I’ve tried giving you time to calm down and talk nicely to me. And I know you’re stressed, but this has gone on too long. It’s not acceptable behavior. Do you understand?”

“I can act however I want! It’s my life!” I retort.

“You can act however you want, but there will be consequences to your actions,” Daddy replies. “This is one of those instances. Now, do you want to go over my lap, or am I going to have to help you?”

I cross my arms over my chest and pull my head out of his hands. “No. I shouldn’t be getting punished.”

“Okay, if that’s how you want to go about this,” Daddy mumbles.

Before I can say anything, Daddy has me over his lap, bottom up in the air.

“No!” I bellow. “You can’t do this! Someone is going to report you for abuse!”

Daddy places his hand on my bottom, gently stroking it. “No one is going to call anyone. If anything, they are going to ask me why I’m punishing you. Once they hear how you’ve been acting and what you said to me—those naughty words—they are going to walk on and tell me to go for it. They may even tell me I’m too soft on you. But no one is going to come in here because we are in our house and they know me. They know I would never hurt an innocent person.”

“I’m innocent!” I look back and glare at Daddy.

“You are not innocent in this regard. You know saying bad words is forbidden. You know acting poorly and hitting me is a no-no, and yet you decided to do it,” Daddy explains. “Now, you know you have your safe word if you need it. Do you want Daddy to hold your wrists, or can you be a good girl and hold onto my pants?”

“I want you to know that I don’t like this,” I say.

“Noted. Now, you hold onto my pants, or I hold onto your wrists. Your choice.”