Ava
Papi tricked me into speaking yesterday, and it was worth it because I got to lie in the sun and look at all the pretty flowers for so long that I also took a nap on the blanket. It was peaceful listening to the sounds of nature and staring at all the beautiful colors. It’s mesmerizing. There is no way to describe how many more colors there are here.
I know in my heart I’m going to be okay, but I’m fighting him every step of the way. Not speaking or moving backfired on me. I’m feeling slightly more surly about it today, too, because I assume Papi is going to threaten me with humiliating medical exams in exchange for me making the progress he wants. I’d rather he just leave me alone and let me stew with my anger for a while.
I have new problems, too. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that he told me he was going to have my nipples pierced. Told me. He didn’t ask me if I wanted needles pushed through my tender buds. He told me. I hate that he informed me of my demise so nonchalantly as if he were letting me know we would go to the park next week.
My nipples are a constant source of aggravation. They tingle even though Papi hasn’t pricked them or any other part of me since we arrived on Eleadia. They tingle anyway, sometimes to the point of aching. I want him to touch them, suck on them…prick them. Yes, I actually crave that sensation. The sharp bite of pain.
When Papi told me I’m not permitted to touch my titties yesterday, I nearly hyperventilated. His dominance is so over the top. It’s all-inclusive. It has no end. He dominates me in every aspect of my life, and every time he adds to it, my plight worsens.
I’m lying on the floor in a playpen in the great room where I’m supposed to be working on building my strength and improving my fine motor skills. There’s a mobile hanging over me. Papi wants me to play with it. I want to go outside again and look at the sky and the flowers.
I also want to talk to Mia, but I’m scared to see her. I bet she isn’t the least bit embarrassed to have been claimed by a giant Daddy who is undoubtedly Babying her the way Ganrax is me. I’m mortified, though. I’m not like Mia. This isn’t a lifestyle I would have chosen for myself.
Papi insists I will eventually realize I’m submissive and suited for life as his mate, but I can’t wrap my head around it, and I don’t want to.
Even when I was a young child, I never really saw myself getting married. I didn’t like the relationship my mother and father had, so I vowed I would not make the same mistakes.
My father is an ass. He’s demanding and overbearing. He thinks women belong in the home cooking, cleaning, and raising babies. My mother is a weakling. She does his bidding and lets him control everything, including finances.
At eighteen, I left home and never returned. I swore I wouldn’t live that kind of life. I’ve dated and had sex, but I’ve never let anyone control me.
And now look at me. I’m lying in a playpen. I’m wearing a diaper, and I’ve been coerced into eagerly sucking from a bottle on a regular schedule in order to avoid the threat of that wicked clamp Dankin introduced to Papi.
That stupid clamp sits on a shelf next to my changing table so that every time I’m strapped to the table, I’m forced to look at it while Papi changes me. It’s a constant reminder.
I’m so fucked up and twisted that Papi has no understanding about why I avoid that clamp. Sure, I drain every bottle so he won’t use it on me, but it’s not because I don’t want him to attach it to my titty. It’s because I do.
I remember what it felt like well because for me it was only five days ago. When I close my eyes and go into my head, I can still feel the biting pain I felt when Dankin clamped my titty with that evil device.
The pain was grounding. Yes, it shocked me and scared the hell out of me at first, but minutes after it was removed, I was still reeling from the effects. He’d only left it dangling from my bud a few seconds, but it was long enough for me to feel the weight of it tugging on my swollen nipple.
It was long enough for me to never forget.
It was long enough for me to crave that sharp pain every time I glance at it.
It’s so embarrassing, and I never want Papi to find out. It’s a catch twenty-two because if I refuse a bottle in order to get him to torture my titty, he would know I did it on purpose because with each passing day in which I get no relief for my growing arousal, I’m more likely to come the second it grips me.
I suck harder on my pacifier, which is another thing that infuriates me. I’m addicted to it. Sure, I’m using it to avoid talking, but I also suck it hard nearly all the time. It takes my mind off the constant ball of need in my tummy, my tingling hard titties, and my throbbing pussy.
When I’m awake, I squirm constantly. Hopefully Papi thinks it’s because I’m acting my part of Baby girl, but it’s really because I’m trying to rub my pussy against the diaper.
There’s never enough contact, though. I can’t get what I need by attempting to grind my clit against the soft material, and my legs won’t come together enough to put pressure on my pussy.
The power of our bond is very strong. Denying it is impossible. He doesn’t need to pierce me with his quill for me to feel the magnetic connection. I want him. I want him inside me. I want to feel the weight of him on top of me. I want to suck his cock and swallow everything he offers me.
My need to be smothered by him is so profound I can’t stand it. Why can’t we just be two people who can’t stand to be parted and fuck like bunnies all the time? Why must I be expected to submit so deeply in order for him to give me the affection we both crave?
He’s sitting at the kitchen table working. I don’t even know what he does for a job. I’ve never asked. He didn’t tell me before we left Earth, and the only information I’ve gotten out of him since then has been what he volunteers. I certainly haven’t asked questions, though I have many.
When he finally stops working, closes his computer, and comes to check on me, he frowns. “You’re not going to get stronger and be able to walk around if you don’t try, Baby girl. I thought you were feistier than this.”
He’s got a point. Part of me knows I’m only hurting myself by being so obstinate. But I’m holding out. It’s all I have in a game I can’t win.
He moves the mobile out of the way and carefully lifts me into his arms, making sure my head is supported by his hand. I’m certain I can hold my head up on my own, but I don’t even try.
My tummy grumbles, and I know it’s time to eat, but he surprises me by lowering me into a bouncy seat. He’s put me in it a few times, but not when he’s going to feed me. He always feeds me cradled in his arms.
Why am I disappointed? I should be glad he isn’t going to be touching so much of me. My need for him is so much stronger when he holds me and off the charts when he rolls me forward so my naked breasts rub against his warm pecs.
Papi parts my legs wider than necessary and pulls a thick padded flap up between them before buckling me in at the waist on both sides.
I kick and squirm and arch my chest. My breathing grows labored every time he restrains me even in a situation as simple as this one. I’m so needy that I barely have the wherewithal to keep from grabbing my nipples. I’m not strong enough to leave them alone altogether, though. I press my biceps inward, squeezing my breasts.
Papi lifts a brow. “What did I say about playing with your naughty little tittles, Ava?”
I gasp. He said he would spank me. Right now, that sounds like heaven. For one thing, it would mean releasing me from the bouncy seat. For another thing, it would mean removing this stupid diaper—at least long enough to swat my bottom.
I crave the contact. I want his palm on me. I want to feel the pain. I hope he’s not gentle. I’m literally bouncing in the stupid bouncy seat out of excitement.
Instead of unfastening my waist, Papi picks up my wrists and pulls them over my head. A second later, he wraps a thick padding around them and attaches it somewhere behind the bouncy seat.
I stop breathing. What’s he doing? My arms are stretched so tight up behind me that my breasts are forced high. They literally ache from lack of contact. I’ve gained some weight from Papi’s constant bottle feedings, and my breasts are tight and heavy.
Papi leaves me like this and walks away, leaving me twisting my head around, craning to see what he’s doing, but I can’t see behind me. All I can see is my biceps.
When he returns, I’m panting. He’s holding a small wooden spoon, and he plucks the pacifier from my mouth so fast I don’t have time to clamp down on it and make it difficult for him.
