Pets 2: Pani's Story (7 page)

It was the nursery rhyme that undid her. Softly sung, with no way for her to understand a single word of it, it nevertheless filtered in through the misery on notes of forgiveness. Bad baby she might be, but Tak’buh wasn’t holding any grudges.

Judy only thought she was running low on tears. Abandoning her throbbing bottom, Judy grabbed onto his shirt with both hands and just wept. This was not capitulation; not by any means. It was simply comfort, tenderly offered at a time when she so very badly needed it, and feeling battered and fragile, she took it.

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It wasn’t the nastiest stuff Judy had ever had been forced to swallow, but at the moment, she was having a hard time remembering when she’d had worse.

Still at the kitchen table, she lay sideways across Tak’buh’s lap, face-up for a change with her knees hanging off one side of his thighs and her head cushioned in the crook of his arm. In his other hand, he held the baby’s bottle firmly pressed into her mouth. Like everything else in this house, the bottle was big and the nipple was almost more than she could manage. Tak’buh had cut an extra large hole to allow the thick liquid inside easier passage into her mouth, and so it took very little effort on her part for large drops to ooze from the bottle onto the back of her tongue. It was either swallow or choke, and at times the taste was so horrible that choking almost became the preference. Perhaps she might have borne the bitter flavor better if only she could take a short break between swallows, but every time she reached for the bottle—just to hold it, mind you, not even to take it away from him—his contented expression would shift into a firm look of warning. And then would come the cautionary scolding in words she couldn’t understand, although the implication was wholly clear: Daddy was saying no, and this was one bad baby who’d better pay attention if she knew what was good for her.

As the fluid level in the bottle dropped to the last few ounces, figuring she had drunk enough to satisfy him, Judy spat the nipple from her mouth and turned her face away. Again, that don’t-you-do-it look filtered across Tak’buh’s face and, switching the bottle to his other hand, he tilted her hips to expose her oh so tender bottom and flatted his palm ominously upon it. It was submit or be spanked again, and Judy immediately submitted. She didn’t just open her mouth and lie passively waiting for him to reseat that overlarge nipple back amongst her tonsils, either. She launched herself at it, grabbing his arm since she wasn’t permitted to touch the bottle, and with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, sucked to get it all down.

The flavor hadn’t improved any in the last few seconds and, as his hand relaxed and drifted slowly away from her bottom to rest less threateningly on her hip, her enthusiasm waned. She scowled, the taste making her shudder even as she closed her eyes, stubbornly sucking and sucking and swallowing just to get it over with once and for all.

That final ounce was the longest and hardest, and when she finally reached that moment when her dogged sucks pulled in only air, she released the bottle with a gasp and a grimace.

“Don’t burp me, or I swear to God, I’m going to throw up all over you.” She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth when he reached for her, but he only picked her up. Balancing her on his hip, he carried her into the bathroom, taking care to shut and lock the door before he set her down next to the sink.

“I can do that myself,” she said dryly as he prepared what looked suspiciously a lot like a toothbrush.

He still planted a hand on top of her hair, tipping her head back and waiting patiently with the toothbrush right next to her lips.

Heaving a sigh, Judy opened her mouth, showing him her teeth. She tried twice to take the brush from him, and both attempts were aborted before her fingers had a chance to slip beneath 30

his. Tak’buh had a very firm tone when he said ‘No.’ As it was, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to sit again.

Slipping her hands behind her, Judy rubbed her bottom through the frill of her yellow panties and the diaper’s padding. Her nates felt swollen, stiff on the very summits, almost as if she were trying to pad her underwear with cardboard. She winced, finding all sorts of tender places when she ever so lightly pressed in with her fingertips, exploring the oddly stiff surface until Tak’buh finished with her teeth and handed her a small cup of water. At least he didn’t insist on helping her drink.

Judy swished and spat and then turned to wipe her mouth on a corner of the soft hand towel, draped over a hook on the wall beside her.

She still had the towel pressed to her face when she felt him take hold of her filly pants and diaper and pull both all the way down to her knees. Her whole body stiffened when he picked her up. Thinking she had blundered into yet another spank-worthy disobedience (unintentionally this time), Judy panicked. With a cry, she snapped her hands behind her, covering her naked bottom as best she could. But instead of finding a seat and laying her down across his lap, Tak’buh set her down upon the toilet.

Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest to watch her and wait.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Judy blurted, staring up at him in shock. As if it had been waiting all morning for this cue, her bladder cramped to obey but she locked her muscles and somehow managed to keep from embarrassing herself completely. As it was, already she could feel her face flushing red hot. Clearing her throat, she tried to tug the hem of her baby-doll green dress down far enough to cover her pubis from view. Pride already wounded beyond recovery, she still lifted her chin as she said, “Fine, but you have to leave first.” She pointed at the door for good measure. Tak’buh followed the direction of her finger, and this time, she got to watch as surprise arched his brows. He glanced back at her, but didn’t move.

“Yeah, I mean get out.” She pointed at the door again, pantomimed walking with two fingers, and then for good measure, shooed at him with both hands. “Out. Go.” Dropping her hands back into her lap, she belated added, “Please.” As if that would help.

It didn’t. As she watched, that look of surprise faded into one of careful calculation. He glanced from her to the bathroom window and in an instant his expression turned knowing.

Straightening, Tak’buh adjusted his burly arms even more stoically across his broad chest and, propping his hip against the counter, settled in to wait her out.

Her many escape attempts had come back to haunt her.

Shoulders drooping in defeat, Judy felt her bladder cramp again. It was either this or the diaper, and she just plain didn’t think her pride could handle needing her diaper changed at the ripe old age of twenty-four.

Turning her face to the wall and blushing furiously, she relaxed her muscles and let her body find relief. Afterwards, she reached for one of the wet wipes, but he came to take it from her.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” she muttered, trying to block his hand with one of hers just long enough to clean herself up. Unfortunately, Tak’buh ignored the hint and her very one-sided game of 31

keep-away ended when he caught both her wrists. He took the wipe away from her, switching his grip on her wrists to her knees when she snapped them together to keep him from touching her there. She pulled her dress down to cover herself, pulling the hem taut across her bare thighs, but it was a minute defiance, and one that ended abruptly when he sat back on his heels and looked at her, thoroughly unamused.

Sensing Spanking Number Four might be looming up somewhere in her very near future, Judy relented. Her face growing hot, she turned her face towards the wall and reluctantly opened her legs. It couldn’t get much worse than this, she told herself; a small comfort, to be sure. But it helped to get her through the sensation of a stranger’s fingertips stroking repeatedly along her vaginal crease before, folding the wipe over, he reached behind her to wipe along her bottom for good measure.

“You really will leave before I do that,” she promised, an equally dark and useless vow since Tak’buh was the one in charge, and they both knew it.

Letting the wipe fall into the toilet, he started to lift her off the seat but then paused. Back between her thighs his hand wandered, this time to comb through the tuft of red curls he found there.

Judy held herself stiff and straight, suffering the indignity of his gentle exploration, her eyes briefly shivering closed when the tip of one finger passed lightly across her clit, eliciting an automatic response. That he hadn’t meant to do that became clear when he failed to repeat the caress, choosing instead to pinch a few well-trimmed hairs between his fingers and very lightly tug at them. She looked at him, recognizing that grim narrowing of his eyes and the slight frown that he leveled at her pubic mound. Insinuating her hand between his and the source of his displeasure, she cupped herself before bringing her legs tightly closed again.

Tak’buh didn’t press the issue. He simply picked her up off the toilet, flushed it, and took her back to the sink. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to wash her hands, although he did wash his.

With her panties still puddled around her ankles, he picked up the hem of her dress and gestured for her to hold it up at chest-level. Already feeling a sinking dread, Judy did as she was told. The fight to keep her pubes was simply not worth the spanking that would surely follow, especially when she knew it was a fight she couldn’t win. So she held herself stiff and straight, bracing herself to endure the intimacy of his touch as first he wet the whole of her mons and then lathered it with creamy soap.

It wasn’t until he pulled out a razor, however, that she made her first squeak of protest. “Oh my God!”

This was no safety shaver. It was an open blade horizontally held at the end of a short handle, and from the second Tak’buh lightly rested one hand upon her belly to still her, Judy did not move. She barely breathed. Only a quick gasp or two as he swished the blade under the streaming water, washing every last strand of short red hair down the drain. She was now as smooth and bare as the baby he seemed content for her to be. Still, she didn’t breathe comfortably until she saw him put the razor aside in favor of picking up a wash cloth. While he was occupied with soaking the cloth under running water, Judy quickly checked herself in the mirror for cuts, but there were none.

Shutting off the water, he turned her back to face him. Inserting the warm cloth up between 32

her legs, he began to wipe away the remaining soap and what few shorn hairs he found hiding around and between the folds of her labia.

His was a most impersonal touch, and yet when the cloth brushed across her clit again, it had Judy arching once more right up onto her tiptoes. He moved his hand from her belly, parting the lips of her sex with two fingers while he stroked the cloth firmly up between, and the fight to remain as impersonal as his touch was lost to a moan before she could stop herself.

Her breathing quickened; when he glanced curiously up at her, she looked away. Wanting this to be done, she tried to step back, but he caught her hips and put her back into position.

When she dropped the hem of her dress, he picked it back up, handed it back to her, physically raising her hands ribs-high and squeezing them once to keep them there. A finger pointed in warning just beneath her nose and a stern look was all he gave her, but it was enough. If she moved again, she knew it would not end until her backside was an even hotter, brighter shade of red than it already was.

Judy bit her bottom lip, closing her eyes and willing herself not to move as, again, his fingers parted her. For all that she tried so hard to bear his curiosity in silence, the softest of mews still managed to escape when the cloth found her again. As soft as it was, against that delicate nub of pleasure, the rasp of sensation felt more like being caressed with a scouring pad.

Her sharply indrawn gasp stopped him, and Tak’buh glanced up at her in concerned surprise.

He dropped the washcloth back in the sink to take a closer look at her, his fingers lightly stroking along the same path he’d washed until he found the bump of her clit. He coaxed the folds of her apart, leaning in so close to her that for one horrified moment she almost thought him about to kiss her there. Even more horrifically, in that moment, she almost wouldn’t have minded if he did.

Her legs trembled as he explored her, rolling her around between his fingers, dipping into her moist heat until everyplace he touched felt slick and smooth and positively electrified.

He peered closer, watching carefully as he massaged her until her knees almost buckled.

Dropping her dress, unable to bear it, she struck his hand away. It was a mistake, and she knew it when she did it. But for just a second, as she cupped her throbbing sex, it almost felt worth the punishment that quickly followed.

His ‘no’ was prompt and resounding, as he dragged her down off the counter. Retreating as far as the shower, he sat down on the side of the tub for the second time that morning and quickly pinned her across his lap.

“No!” Even knowing the uselessness of it, she tried to cover her naked flanks. It was starting to feel like a routine. He caught her wrists and pinned her down with ridiculous ease, and then he blistered her backside. With quick, staccato strokes, he spanked her until ‘No’ was all she could think. She wailed it, a miserable parrot echoing his scolding back at him and soaking the tiles of the floor below with her tears.

Her bottom was nothing but battered heat before he was done. But this time when Tak’buh finally set her back on her feet, he gave her no time to coddle her aching flesh. He caught hold of one braid, and with it, marched her back out into the living room. He put her into the same corner of the living room that she had fled to that very first day, so close to the wall that her nose touched the paint. Seizing her hands, he pried them from her bottom, preventing her from 33

soothing away the worst of the scorching heat, and planted them one at a time flat against the wall to either side of her head. Raising the hem of her dress, he tucked it into her neckline. And then he left her there, crying and feeling sorry for herself until she was too exhausted by it all to continue.