Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
“Has she been peeing regularly?” he asks Daddy.
“Yes. She’s transitioned pretty smoothly to diapers and bottles. I suspect she’ll feel shy about both for a while until she gets more comfortable in her Little space, but alone at home, she has adjusted quickly.”
The doctor nods as he shifts his attention to my breasts.
When I try to lower my arms, Daddy grips my hands in one of his and presses them against the table above my head. He’s careful with my wrist. He’s always careful with my wrist. “Stay still, sweet girl,” he gently commands.
I hold my breath as the doctor feels around my breasts.
“When was the last time you had a physical, Little one?” Dr. Morgan asks.
It’s hard to focus with his fingers grazing my nipples. “When I was about ten.”
The doctor nods. He doesn’t comment on my total lack of medical care for the past ten years. I assume Daddy has told him all about my situation. “Do you have regular periods, Little one?”
My face heats. I don’t want to talk about my cycle.
He looks at me, leaving a hand on my chest between my breasts. “You’re underweight and probably haven’t had good nutrition for a long time. I bet your periods are irregular. Not every month.”
I nod, grateful he’s answered his own question for me. It’s easier if I don’t have to speak. I’d love it if I could have that pacifier Daddy sometimes offers me. Then I could go into my head and not talk.
Dr. Morgan pats my chest and smiles before turning his attention toward Daddy. “Make sure she stays on a strict feeding schedule. No skipping bottles and she needs to finish them entirely. If she needs an incentive, we can come up with something.”
Daddy nods. “I have a plan.”
I glance at him. He has a plan for what?
“Good.” The doctor moves down to the end of the table. He lifts one of my legs and bends it toward my chest, examining the back of my thigh. When his fingers prod near my diaper, I realize he’s looking at scars where I’ve been beaten.
He frowns as he does the same to the other leg. “These will fade with time, but she probably won’t ever be able to tolerate spanking.”
“I didn’t figure.”
“We’ll get her set up to see the counselor on the island, but no amount of therapy is going to help her tolerate impact play after years of abuse.”
Daddy nods.
The doctor meets my gaze again. “Did your father ever make you stand in timeouts in the corner, Little one?”
I shake my head. “No, Sir.” My father was all about lashing out at me, yanking me too hard, beating me. He didn’t have any sort of plan about teaching me a lesson. He was just angry and mean.
Dr. Morgan returns his attention to Daddy. “Timeouts might work, but watch carefully. Make sure nothing triggers her. Littles, especially deeply regressed Littles, nearly always need strict rules and boundaries, and they need to know you will enforce them. Firm discipline helps them feel safe, but it’s important for that type of discipline to fill their needs. Even though most Littles have a strong desire to purge their feelings through spanking, others cannot tolerate impact play, and you have to get more creative.”
I’m still trying to absorb everything he’s saying, but he removes my diaper at the same time, and it distracts me. My heart is pounding as he guides my feet into stirrups and spreads my legs wide, exposing my private parts.
The doctor pulls a stool between my legs and sits at a level that allows him to examine me so intimately I think I might die.
Daddy sets his free hand on my tummy. “Deep breaths, Little one. The doctor needs to examine all of you.”
I can’t breathe at all, deeply or otherwise.
Dr. Morgan’s gloved hands part my folds. “Your Daddy tells me you haven’t had penetrative sex yet. Is that right, Little one?”
My breath hitches as I nod.
“I’m going to ask you some very personal questions, Little one, because I don’t want to hurt you. Has anything been inside your vagina?”
I shake my head. My face is burning hot.
“No one has put a finger in you?”
I shake my head again.
“And you haven’t explored yourself and pushed a finger inside?”
Another shake.
“What about other objects? Toys? Vibrators?”
Holy moly. I’m so embarrassed, not just from the discussion but also because my lack of experience even touching myself is nerve-wracking. Ever since Daddy showed me how good it feels to have my pussy touched, I’ve thought about it nearly nonstop. I’m kind of kicking myself for not having explored this side of myself on my own, but there’s no way I would have ever done so in my tiny bedroom with no door.
“Do you use tampons or pads, Lacey?”
I can’t hold back my emotions at that last question. “Neither,” I whisper as tears gather. I’m so pitiful. “I had a few pads from the school when I first got my period, but then I just used wash clothes after that.”