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After he’d given Cricket her medicine and plugged her bottom again, Owen released her clips and had her turn over. He applied a thick layer of cream to her bare, pink pussy and then put her in a fresh diaper.
She whimpered at the feeling of having her no doubt sore as hell backside on the table and covered with what probably felt like sandpaper to her sensitized skin even though it was soft cotton.
He had no illusions that he’d never see Cricket have a tantrum again—they didn’t actually seem to be under her control but they’d work on that too. She was calm and starry-eyed now, looking up at him like he was her whole galaxy. They’d get to the tantrums later, for now she’d done a beautiful job taking her naughty girl spanking, and he’d reward her for it.
Once he’d fixed her clothes, he sat her up and loved the way she hissed and grimaced and shifted her hips trying to get some relief on her backside. She wouldn’t find anything except time to do the trick.
“Come on, love bug. Crawl over to the rocking chair so Daddy can give you a nice cuddle.”
The series of whimpers and whines Cricket let out as her diaper rubbed against her bottom and the movement of crawling called her attention to her newly beaten backside were better than a symphony to his ears. As were the sniffles when she settled herself with her legs over his lap the way she liked. Now she’d get the promised cuddles and more affection than she’d probably know what to do with.
Once she was settled and was only sniffling occasionally, he praised and rocked her and thought about how goddamn lucky he was.
“You’re Daddy’s perfect babygirl, Cricket. Even when you’re naughty. Daddy’s going to give you everything, and you’ll be everything to me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next day before nap time, he gave Cricket a couple bottles in the rocking chair. Once she’d taken them, she blinked up at him. “Tell me a story, Daddy? Please?”
“Sure, babygirl.” He pulled Cricket closer and rubbed her back. “Once upon a time, there was a little girl with curly red hair and bright green eyes, who loved dino nuggets—”
“Daddy! Not a story about me. Can you tell me a story about you? From when you were a kid? I don’t know hardly anything about you from before you were my Daddy.”
That was true, although in some ways he felt as though his life had only really started once he’d found his Little girl. Maybe more like a new era of his life had begun.
“I suppose I can do that,” he said slowly because a lot of his early life had been chaotic and not a lot of fun and he didn’t want to stress Cricket by talking about it. On the other hand, he didn’t want her to feel like he was keeping secrets.The Early Life of Owen Pierceit was then. If she needed soothing afterward then he would soothe her before putting her down for her nap.
“A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away—”
“Daddy!” The way she drew out the title made him smile. “You’re doing it wrong again!”
“You’re right, my bad,” he told her and then kissed the tip of her nose which made her giggle more. “Okay, for real this time. I guess the story doesn’t really start with me.”
Cricket snuggled into his chest like this was going to take awhile so she’d best get comfy. She might be right even though he’d try not to go into too much detail. He wasn’t writing an autobiography after all.
“My mother moved up here, looking for adventure, when she was nineteen. Fell in love with a fisherman. She got pregnant and moved in with him but it wasn’t long before she realized subsistence living wasn’t for her.”
His stomach pitched like a fishing boat on rough seas—that was something he really needed to discuss with Cricket. Something he should’ve talked to her about before offering her his collar. She might not have agreed to wear it if she knew where he was headed. Maybe this would be a good way to bring it up. It wouldn’t right the wrong but he could avoid making the situation worse. But first things first.
“They fought. A lot. There was a lot of screaming and cussing, sometimes throwing things, although I don’t think they ever hit each other. My dad would storm out, slam the door. Sometimes he wouldn’t come back for days. When I was four, my mom decided she didn’t want to put up with any of it anymore so she packed us up and we left. Moved down to Washington. I left for college and med school and all that, and she passed away a few years ago. Pancreatic cancer.”
Cricket rubbed his arm in that soft, sweet way she had, and looked up at him. “I’m so sorry about your mom.”
“Thanks. We had a rocky relationship but I know she wanted the best for me.”
“Did you see your dad again?”
“No. I don’t know if I would have anyway—he hated coming down to the lower forty-eight and I don’t think there was any way my mom was going to bring me back up here even for a visit. Maybe I would’ve seen him again when I was old enough to travel on my own.”
Here came the part that had the potential to upset Cricket. She was so sensitive. He didn’t expect a tantrum like she’d had before, but there might be tears. Good thing he knew a bunch of ways to cheer up a tender-hearted Little girl because there was no way to make this part sound pretty.
“Anyway, I never got to find out how visiting would’ve worked. He died in a fishing accident when I was six. Boat went down in a bad storm. Some of the crew survived but he got a busted immersion suit. Water was getting in from the start and help didn’t get there in time.”
“I’m so sorry,” Cricket whispered, and her sympathy made him feel more about his father’s death than he had for awhile.
It had been hard sometimes growing up without a father. His mom had done the best she could and they’d been more fortunate than a lot of other single-parent families he’d known at the time, or had since. And for all that his parents been a bad match and brought out the worst in each other, he thought as two separate souls they’d been pretty decent people.
It had shaped him in a lot of ways; the loneliness and the hole in his heart where his dad ought to be. Owen often wondered how his life might’ve been different with his father in it. Of course it had been a moot point. He’d also been saddled with some guilt, which he didn’t share with anyone because he knew what they’d say and it wasn’t helpful. But Cricket… If he expected her to share all her secrets and allow him the deepest intimacies it seemed only fair to open up his own innermost workings.
